


French Kiss

by AliceMalefoy



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMalefoy/pseuds/AliceMalefoy
Summary: Life is a show and Nissen was Christoffer's stage. He owned the place, people cheered for him, he brought life to the parties and good looks to his group of friends. But after high school he wasn't so much of a star boy anymore and he found himself being terribly alone. Who really knew the real him? Only the people who got a backstage pass to his life could claim to do. But amidst all the turmoil of his young years, a strange girl is going to stumble in his life – neither of them will be prepared for this.





	1. Rule N°1

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously – sadly – I (still) do not speak Norwegian, but for the sake of this story (who's going to deal with language) please make an effort of imagination and pretend that everything is in Norwegian. Everything's going to be in English but since the story happens in Oslo let's all pretend we do speak Norwegian. Just for show, I'll use a few very basic words like hei, nei, fy faen (lol).

_Rule number one: Never let your guard down._

 

People are everywhere, all the time. Chris learned not to drop the mask until he was in a safe place, hidden from the prying eyes constantly darted on him. No matter how much he racked his brain he couldn't put his finger on when exactly it started but he knew that at some point in his life he's begun to care more about who the others thought he was rather than who he really was becoming. Maybe it was the sudden feminine attention he got when he started high school, or maybe it was behind part of a popular group. The other Penetrators never shared his problem though.

Was it a problem? That was another good question he didn't have the answer to. Were the increasingly dark bags under his eyes becoming a problem? Was his sight getting blurry due to lack of sleep and hangovers? Was the ever present feeling of jadedness an issue? Nothing he couldn't deal with, but definitely things he could live without. People weren't going to notice anything anyway. Even assuming the bunch of self-absorbed teenagers attending his school weren't too busy thinking about their own little life to notice the others, Chris would still fool them all. Even Eva didn't notice anything despite hooking up with him on a regular basis at the time. Then she moved on and found an actual decent boy to have a real relationship with. Chris understood.

Girls. Simultaneously the worst and most magnificent creatures in all of creation. And Chris somehow managed to attract the attention of almost all of them – with the notable and shocking exception of William's girlfriend who's merely the exception that confirms the rule. Though now William was gone and Noora had followed him to London so no one was around to make him come back to earth. The one girl who could resist him and his best friend weren't there to remind him to stay grounded. It was an understatement to say that after high school, things began to go downhill for Chris.

He thought it would be different, but it only became worse. He didn't know what to do with his life. Chris tried to follow his father's steps but quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't for him and dropped out of university. He figured now was as good a time as ever to do his military service and he joined military school. It went fine but it was bound to end. Twelve months after signing up he was back to square one, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now that he was back.

Girls. They still stared at him when he walked down the street. He still got invited to parties. Those two things were familiar enough for him to dive into them head first. For an entire summer Chris partied and fucked like there was no tomorrow and suddenly he found himself being pushed to the wall. His parents told him they wouldn't support this lifestyle of his and blackmailed him. If he wanted to keep the nice off campus apartment they first bought him when he started studying economics, he had to go back to university.

“Whatever,” he told them with a shrug right before storming out of the family house. Family dinner my ass, he thought, this was an intervention!

He did care about the slight form of autonomy he's gained by living outside of the family circle and he would rather go back to school then give it up. Gotta work for what you want. Chris waited a few more days before officially signing up at university again and a couple more before announcing it to his mom. Through a text. Just to keep them all hanging. This time he chose a subject that actually interested him – linguistics. His father had laughed when he heard about this, claiming that it wouldn't lead to a well paid job and that he might as well go back to the army.

Contrary to popular belief, Chris was an excellent student. Very few people knew that and among those who did there were his parents – his father thought he had to put his brains to good use and by good use he meant to make money, while his mom merely wanted him to get a degree, whatever major he wanted to get it in.

Thus began the terribly boring, routinely life of Christoffer Schistad, the boy who thought the world belonged to him not even two years ago. Turns out it doesn't, and the world doesn't owe him shit either. He found that out the harsh way. But in the middle of his dull days blurring into one another, he saw some unexpected light seeping through the thick dark clouds. This light came in the form of... a missed floor.

“Fy faen!” Chris cursed under his breath low enough for the old lady sharing the elevator ride not to hear.

He wasn't sure she would have heard him if he say it out loud either, but it was better to play it safe. After all it was neither the old lady's nor the elevator's fault if he was too damn distracted to get out on his floor. He was simply going to get out on the next and walk down the stair. When he heard the jingle of the elevator Chris' eyes unglued from his phone. He tucked it in his pocket and walked out, leaving the old lady alone.

He was far from expecting the surprise waiting for him behind the door leading to the staircase. As soon as he stepped into the unlit space, he bumped into something. A surprised gasp told him it was a someone rather than something. It was followed by a thud muffled by the carpeted stairs.

“Wow!” Chris exclaimed and immediately reached out to grab whoever was standing in front of him in the dark. “You okay? Why are you here in the dark?”

The lights flickered for a couple seconds before going out again. At least it answered his question. What he saw was a girl. She stood two steps under him but he could tell she was shorter than him anyway.

“ _Désolée_ , _je_ \- it's euh- the automatic light... it's broken,” the girl mumbled quietly.

Chris reached for the door behind him and held it open to get some light from the hallway. This time he saw that she had long brown hair held back though her bun seemed to be unraveling. Her cheeks were bright red and her eyes didn't meet his. She had an accent and Chris thought he recognized a word she said as French but it was hard to say since she spoke so quietly.

“Are you okay?” He asked again. She had dropped her bag in the process and was now kneeling down the gather the notebooks that fell out of it.

“Fine, fine,” she dismissed him quickly, waving her hand.

He felt like she really put extraordinary effort into not looking him in the eyes. Before he could ask any more questions, she stormed past him, squeezing by in order to exit the staircase through the door he held open and that was it.

“Weird,” Chris said to himself. He shrugged it off and went on his way. “What-?”

He stepped on something. He couldn't see what he was and simply groped the floor until he found it and picked it up. When he finally reached his own floor and stood outside his apartment he looked at it.

It was a small notebook. It was creased and the corners were folded. The cover was plain blue and it looked like any other mundane notebook. He wondered if he should look inside – he hesitated a couple minutes but curiosity got the best of him. The only problem was that he couldn't read any of what was written inside. French, for sure. He understood a few individual words but the unfamiliar language added to the cursive writing was like Chinese to him.

“Great,” he grumbled.

Chris took out his keys, unlocked the door only to swing his backpack inside and close it again behind him. He was good for another trip upstairs to try and find this mysterious girl and give her back her notebook. Learning where a pretty foreign girl lived should have thrilled him but he's lost some of his fire in the last few months. University sucked the life out of him. If high school Penetrator Chris saw him today, he would punch himself.

Nevertheless, Chris ran upstairs, and knocked on the first door he saw. It wasn't her. The next door remained closed. The third door had to be the one, it was the flat right above his own apartment. He knocked and waited. His foot nervously tapped the carpeted floor.

“Hi!” He said as soon as the door opened, revealing the same flustered girl as before. She wasn't nearly as short as he thought even if he was taller than her, but she was still pink in the face.

“Hei,” she answered with a small frown of confusion and a little smile.

“You dropped this in the stairs,” Chris told her, showing her the notebook. Her eyes lit up when she saw it and she almost wrested it from his hand.

“ _Oh merci!_ ” She exclaimed, briefly showing him a bright smile. It disappeared as quickly as it came and she mumbled a shy, “I mean- takk.”

“It's fine,” he told her, waving off her embarrassment. She was blushing again. “I'm ehm- I'm Chris, I'm your downstairs neighbor,” he introduced himself in hope to dissolve her apparent nervousness.

She clutched the door frame and bit her lip. Chris recognized this expression but he couldn't associate it with its usual meaning. Back at Nissen this was what girls did when they saw him because they liked him. This one seemed to wonder if she should slam the door in his face.

“Helen,” she eventually said, looking up.

Chris took extra care to notice the color of her eyes because at this pace he wouldn't be seeing them again any time soon. They were dark brown, darker than her hair. The fact that they were so big stressed her aura of innocence.

Upon hearing the equally candid name Chris couldn't stop the smirk from growing on his face and she flinched and looked at her feet.

“Hey don't worry,” he told her. As a reassuring gesture he placed his hand on her arm and her gaze followed his movement. “I get it, you're not a native speaker. French right?”

“Yes,” she answered with a grateful smile. “I try speak Norwegian all the time to improve but it hard alone,” she mumbled ever so shyly.

Christoffer's smile stretched wider. Did she really have no idea how charming she was? How old was she? She couldn't be too much younger or older than him but it was always hard to tell with girls.

“Are you a student?” He inquired. Was it too straightforward? Well it was too late, the question was out there.

“Nei.” She shook her head and brought her lips in a thin line. “I work for one year and learn to speak then go to study,” she tried to explain awkwardly. “I'm only here since two months.” It was oddly endearing to see her search for the right words and try to assemble a coherent sentence. “You?”

“I'm majoring in linguistics,” he told her. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Why did you climb the stairs to the fifth floor in the dark?”

It was a ridiculous question but that's what was on his mind. An even deeper blush than before crept on her cheeks.

“I-ehm the elevators are scaring me,” she admitted and cleared her throat. “And I can't go to gym so I make sport climbing the stairs.”

He laughed – and congratulated himself for it because then she laughed too.

“Listen, would it be too bold to ask for your number?” He asked her. “I can show you the city and help you learn Norwegian if you want. Or we can just hang out sometime.”

Helen seem to ponder the question for a minute, her eyes scanned him up and down – not in the obscene way some girls did in order to catch his attention but in a cautious, almost wary manner.

“No funny business,” she said with a mischievous smirk that contradicted what she just said. She said it without any hesitation almost like she had learned it by heart, but her accent was thick nonetheless.

“On my honor,” he promised, crossing his heart as he did so. “Unless you don't want me to, I'll behave.”

Helen laughed again and held her palm open, waiting for him to hand his phone over so she could enter her number.

“Only because I need help with learning,” she told him but her tone once again said something different than her words. “You look like- _comment on dit déjà?_ -” she wondered out loud in French, “-trouble.”

“You have no idea,” Chris chuckled and retrieved his phone from the unintentionally charming Helen.

 


	2. Rule N°2

_Rule number two: Attack is the best defense._

 

Chris had always felt like he was above the law – maybe not when it comes with committing a crime like robbing a bank, but the law as in the rules. He scarcely ever had to face the consequences of his actions which led to his believing that he was untouchable. That's what he got for being the only child of parents who didn't really care much for him when he was a child and spent most of his time with nice _au pair_ girls who were too scared to even think about mishandling little Christoffer.

It wasn't necessarily the big things, he didn't deal drugs, steal from stores or throw bricks into windows, but the small everyday things. Chris could leave his empty paper cup of coffee on the table and there was always another Penetrator to pick it up, one that was lower on the totem pole. Chris could forget to hand in an assignment and charm the teacher into giving him more time. Chris could park his car wherever he wanted and his dad always took care of the ticket if he got one. Chris could date three, four girls at the same time without them throwing a tantrum.

Chris could also text a girl whenever he wanted; he wasn't subjected to the three days rule. That was for the amateurs who never got laid in their life. He played in premier league. Girls threw themselves at him. The cute, candid, little French girl living above him would soon be under him. What sane girl could turn him down? How could a foreigner looking for ties in a new country pass up the opportunity to score a hot Norwegian boy?

Nobody would convince him to passively wait next to his phone for three days to pass or for the girl to text first. That was out of the question and the person who invented this rule didn't know girls at all. Chris sent the first text as soon as he was back at his apartment, merely so she would have his number too.

The second one followed the very next day – which was only a few hours after the first one actually – and it was to ask her when she was free. Helen took her sweet time to answer him which was very annoying. She was either extremely busy (at work maybe) or she purposely waited an hour or two to reply because she wanted to play hard to get.

“Girls,” Chris grumbled and locked his phone again after checking it for the tenth time in under thirty minutes.

“ _Girls_ _plural_?” His friend Andreas asked, looking up from his physics textbook. He wasn't even reading it, he had dozed off a while ago and Chris thought he was sleeping with his face against the open book.

“Girls in general,” Chris developed his thought. “They'll drive me insane before I understand them.”

“Understanding girls?” Andreas frowned and rubbed the sleepiness away from his eyes. “Dude, you'd have a better chance understanding what this book says than girls.”

“Well, given how fast you're reading this book I think I still have a better chance than you,” Chris snickered and threw his pencil at his friend to wake him up. When Andreas' hand was finally up the pencil had already hit him in the forehead.

“Hey! Fuck off man,” he said out of reflex more than out of actual pain. “Just- what happened for you to curse those lovely creatures that make life worth living?”

“Granted my reasoning is mostly based on what I saw in movies and not actual data, but aren't girls supposed to sit by their phone and wait in expectancy for the guy to text and then answer right away?” Chris blurted out but regretted it almost immediately.

“You know Hollywood feeds us with lies in those dumb rom-coms?” Andreas huffed. “Don't tell me that's your only reference in girl matters.”

Chris didn't say anything, which caused Andreas to harshly throw the pencil back at him.

“You stupid fuck,” he exclaimed and rolled his eyes. “How you even get girls in your bed that's beyond me.”

“Shut up, not everyone's lucky enough to find a hot, funny girlfriend on the first week of college, cut me some slack!” He grumbled while rubbing the spot on his head where the pencil hit him. “Girls used to be easier-”

“You're not in high school anymore Chrissy,” Andreas snorted and rolled his eyes.

He was two years older than Chris but only started college this year – he took two consecutive gap years. Andreas was majoring in physics and beginning to regret it. He liked to tease the hell out of Chris for being the younger one and often patronized him or treated him like he was his very own young padawan. He could take a hint though and by the look Chris was currently giving him, he knew he had overstepped. Chris hated nicknames.

“Alright, tell me why your knickers are in a twist,” he sighed, putting away his gigantic textbook. The day Chris' patience wore out he could always use this book to knock Andreas out cold.

“ _My knick_ -” he started but changed his mind. “You know what? I'll be the bigger person and let it slide. The girl I'm having trouble with is my upstairs neighbor.”

“Since when do you have a hot upstairs neighbor? Wouldn't you have noticed before? Seen her in the elevator or leaving the building?” Andreas' curiosity was piqued.

“She takes the stairs,” Chris explained dismissively. “But the point is, now I know her and I have her number-”

“Ah, that's my Chris!” His friend rejoiced, raising his hand for a fist bump. Chris hated fist bumps too. How did this moron manage to get himself a girlfriend and not Chris? “I knew you were back in the game. It's like bicycle you never really forget it.”

“Stop interrupting me or I'll smack you in the head with your textbook. I'm almost certain the blow is going to be fatal,” Chris warned the other boy with a stern glance. He pushed his hair back with one hand and distractedly twirled his phone around on the wooden table with the other. “Her name's Helen and she's not native Norwegian so I graciously offered to help her learn the language and give her free city tours.”

“An exchange student?” Andreas frowned. “Those are great ones! Most of them are here to get crazy and have the time of their life, they are ready to try _anything_!”

He seemed to be speaking of personal experience but the way he said that last part sounded gross even for Chris. He might be an irredeemable womanizer but he liked to think that he was a classy one. Talking about the girls that went through his bed and what they did in it was never something he was into – which didn't stop him from sharing a few juicy details when he needed to get his nosy friends off his back.

“Nah, she said she just arrived and that she was going to spend a year working and learning Norwegian before applying for college. Man you should have seen her, she's a real mouse! Not particularly short but she shrunk back every time I opened the mouth. And she kept blushing like she never spoke to a boy in her life!”

“You know what they say: the more innocent they look the more kinky they are,” Andreas said with an eyebrow wiggle which earned him a slap on the head. “Where is she from? Is she American? Italian? No wait- _Russian_?”

“Would you stop it?! She's French. I'm not saying anything else,” Chris told him and stood up, causing the chair to screech on the tiled floor. “You seriously need to keep yourself in check dude, you're a real psycho.”

“That's how Astrid likes me,” Andrews replied with a wink and Chris shook his head as he packed his stuff, ready to walk away and leave Andreas to his pretend-studying. “Speaking of which-” he continued, stretching the last syllable. “-here comes the light of my life.”

The moment Chris turned around with is backpack thrown over his right shoulder Astrid arrived with her usual big smile and aura of good mood.

“Hei boys,” she greeted them both. She lightly squeezed Chris' shoulder as she walked past him to plant a kiss on her boyfriend's lips. “Leaving already Chris?”

“He doesn't want to third wheel, right Chris?” Andreas said, winking at his friend when Astrid wasn't looking at him.

“Yeah,” Chris played along. “Got work to do and clearly here isn't the place I'll get it done.”

“Oh wait!” She exclaimed suddenly, making Chris spin on his heels. He looked at her with raised eyebrows to show her she had his full attention. “If you're still up for it I actually have a friend who'd want to meet you. I could introduce you two, I trust she's your type.”

“Now you have terrible timing babe,” Andreas laughed, earning a confused frown.

She sat down on the chair next to him and asked what the problem was. Chris raised his eyes to the sky and cursed internally. He shouldn't have told him about Helen.

“Our big boy Chris found a girl all by himself just yesterday,” he explained with a hint of pride in his voice.

“You're a dick, Andre,” Chris scoffed and turned around for good, leaving his friends in the most deserted part of the library – they always sat there because they liked to talk and not just study in silence. Maybe Chris would pick up a better habit and start actually working alone to get shit done.

The sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket relieved some of his annoyance. When he pulled it out and saw what it read the rest of it vanished too.

**2 Messages from Hel**

**13:45 – Sorry I couldn't answer sooner, I'm working today. -Hel**

**13:46 – I'm free everyday after 16:00 let me know when you're available. - Hel**

A smile fought its way on Chris' face even though he was still feeling grumpy about his friend's asshole behavior. He had to say he was actually impressed by her neat grammar. She either spent a lot of time writing these texts or she was a lot better at writing than talking.

 **13:48 – Everyday? So that means I can take you out today.** He made sure not to phrase it like it was a question. **That's great I needed to get my mind off of work and I know exactly where to take you. - Chris**

She had to say yes, it was the only thing that could possibly save this day and he couldn't be any more obvious or straightforward about liking her and wanting to see her again. One of his golden rules in high school was to never talk to a girl more than once every twenty-four hours. That made it three times. 

**13:56 – Today? I guess it's fine yes. Come at my place at 16:30. - Hel**

For the first time in the story of his life, Chris might be more thrilled to meet up with a girl than the girl was to see him. Which would be more alarming if Chris hadn't spent the last few weeks starved of anything close to female affection. For a reason that eluded him, he was suddenly affected by a severe case of indifference toward all the girls around him. All girls but this one apparently.

**14:00 – A vos ordres ;) - Chris**

 


	3. Rule N°3

_Rule number three: When you feel your worst, gotta look your best._

 

Something about his conversation with Andreas had bummed Chris out. His friend meant no harm, that he knew, but his remarks about Chris being single or not having any game anymore still stung. The more he thought about it, the least confident he felt, although he tried his best not to show it – especially not to girls. At some point it was completely fine because so many girls were into him that he hardly ever was alone long enough to get infatuated with one specific girl – but now it changed. He changed. Most of those same girls who still found him attractive and boyfriend material did not interest him any longer. He wanted something else. Someone real.

Was this how other people always felt when they had a date – or just hung out – with somebody they liked? Chris had sweaty palms and felt sort of sick while also incredibly thrilled at the same time. He even took the stairs up to her floor in hopes that the long climb would give him the time he needed to collect himself.

He had stopped at his place to drop off his bag and change shirts, brush his teeth, all the basic stuff. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and ordered himself to get his shit together, because he was Christoffer fucking Schistad and he could swoop the little upstairs Frenchie off her feet whenever he wanted to.

His hand still hesitated a second before knocking. Chris gulped down as he waited. It would be fine, this wasn't even a real date, it's informal, the most casual hang out between a boy and a girl he could ask for. She would open the door, say hi and they would simply chat and walk around the city. It was a fresh and rather misty day, but it didn't rain and the wind didn't blow which was good.

“Hei,” she greeted him with a big smile as soon as she opened the door.

She used her foot to push the door wide open while her hands were busy fumbling with her hair. In a twist or two it was tied back though a couple strands framed her face. Her cheeks were pink and eyes glowing as if she had run here.

“Come in, I'm not ready yet,” she told him and stepped aside. “Be right back,” she said before rushing to the bathroom.

Chris walked in, hands stuffed in his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them.

“We're in no rush,” he told her.

A faint smirk appeared on his face when he saw her living room. The apartment was a mirror image of his own, expect it was packed to the brim with various girl stuff. Clothes scattered over chairs, a pile of colorful notebooks on the table, a handbag, two laptops covered in stickers, a purple blanket hung over the back of the couch and on the windows' edges she had aligned a bunch of plants. What surprised him was that almost everything seemed to be in duplicate.

“You don't live alone?” He asked her over his shoulder. She hadn't come out of the bathroom yet.

“No,” she said. He barely heard her and decided to go back towards the bathroom, standing beside the ajar door. “I have a roommate. She's a foreign student from Ireland,” she told him.

“An exchange student you mean?” Chris asked, chuckling a bit. She managed to get her point across but mostly used the wrong words to say what she wanted to say.

“Yes, an exchange student,” she repeated as though saying the words would help her remember. “Almost finished.”

“Can I get anything for you?” He inquired leaning towards the door.

“My sneakers. I can't find the other o- aah!” she let out the smallest of screams when she swung the door open and almost ran into Chris, not expecting him to stand right behind the door. Helen stumbled on her feet and fell right into Chris' open arms who was quick to catch her.

Chris inwardly congratulated himself for his reflexes. There was a moment of silence during which they looked at each other like deers caught in headlights.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she straightened herself.

“I think you just fell for me, Helen,” Chris laughed.

Fuck, Andre was right. His pick up lines were lame and stupid, no wonder he couldn't find a girlfriend. He should accept Astrid's offer to hitch him up. And what if she didn't get the pun? He always found jokes in foreign languages to be difficult to understand.

But she wiped away his worries with a smile and a laugh. Helen walked past him and squeezed his shoulder. She grabbed her other shoe and quickly put it on. Then she took her phone and wallet out of her bag and put them in the pockets of her jacket.

“Ready to go,” she declared.

In a surge of boldness, Chris grabbed the scarf hanging on the hook behind the door and draped it around Helen's neck. She didn't say anything; she nuzzled it.

“You'll thank me later,” he told her. “Now come, I'll take you to my favorite part of the city.”

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

“Grünerløkka,” he answered, knowing she wouldn't know what or where it was. He chuckled when he saw the confused frown on her face. “You'll see, you'll like it.”

He was sure that she would, there was no doubt in his mind. He used to take girls out clubbing or having dinner at a fancy restaurant, depending on what kind of girl he was trying to win over, but Helen didn't strike him as either of those two types. He was going to take full advantage of his Oslo tour guide role. As they took a tram and then a bus to get to the part of the city where Chris wanted to take her, they made small talk. It felt awkward but not uncomfortable.

“What did you want to see me so soon?” She suddenly asked him, when they walked off the bus and onto the pavement.

With his hands in his pockets still, Chris shrugged and pouted. He didn't know what to answer to that honestly, it wasn't a question he was used to getting. Usually girls were happy enough to get the chance to hang out with him and didn't question his motivations.

“You have a reason,” she insisted, smiling cunningly and crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed to try to pull a serious face but she only managed to look adorable with her face half hidden behind her scarf.

“Maybe it's a secret,” he told her to dodge the question.

“A secret that make you look sad,” she observed.

For an absolute stranger that barely knew him, she sure must have a keen eye if she was able to see that. Most people never even saw through Chris' act of confident fuck boy during all the years they knew him. Helen and her big innocent eyes did though. She smiled again. She was doing a lot of smiling and Chris came to realize that it might be her way of communicating when words failed her.

“Sad? Here I thought I looked devilishly handsome,” Chris joked and Helen bumped her shoulder against his. “I look sad?” He then asked her in a more serious voice.

“A little bit,” she said, ever with her distinctive accent that made her stress the 't'. “Do you want not to tell me why?”

“I had a very long, upsetting day,” he confessed reluctantly. “And I didn't want it to finish as horribly as it started so I asked you out.”

“Ask me out?” Helen laughed. “I don't know this is a date.” Her hand flew to her chest right above her heart and her eyes lit up with malice. There wasn't much more Chris could ask for to make his day better.

“ _Touché_!” Chris said with a look of hurt.

Helen once again gave him that look of utter fascination when he used a French word. She was making a little fun of him but her sympathetic nature also made her place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it lightly.

“What happened to upset you?” She inquired politely. She tried not to intrude, he could tell, but she was curious and didn't want to let the conversation die either.

“I have a dumb best friend, that's what happened. And a lot of work for uni,” he sighed. “You know what, I don't want to talk about how shitty today was, I just want to make it better.”

“That's a great state of mind,” Helen agreed with him. “So, what did you want to show me here? At... Grunluka?”

“Grünerløkka,” Chris corrected her. “It's the hipster part of the city. And I'm only showing you this because you don't know any of my friends so there's no risk of you telling them about it,” he chuckled. “It's by far the most lively part of Oslo. And it's where you find the best _cafés_ and shops too.”

“Using French words to impress me?” Her nose scrunched up and she tugged at her scarf to loosen it. “Why don't you take me to drink something? I have not sat down since... shit I forgot how you say. The hour before noon?” Helen turned to Chris for help.

“You mean eleven?”

“Yes! I'm standing since eleven,” she exclaimed.

“Fair enough, we'll go to a place I like. But now it's a date!” He told her.

The way he said it made it sound like he was bargaining with her. Helen seemed to enjoy their flirty conversation but still hesitated before agreeing. She was the one who asked him to take her somewhere, she couldn't refuse him a _tête à tête_ now, could she?

Chris was beckoning, he was as charming as could be. One glance at him and she knew that she would regret ever opening the door when he returned her notebook. Attractive boys were the worst. They drew attention, all kinds of trouble, and there was no telling if they really liked you or if you simply were another name on the list of girls they dated.

She really did hesitate though. She wanted to tell him that she was looking for a friendly hang out, a good warm coffee and a lazy walk around town. That she didn't come all the way from France to Oslo to be hit on by yet another womanizer. However long she would end up staying in Norway, she wanted every second, every person she met to matter. Right now, Chris was a potential friend and downstairs neighbor she could go grab a pizza with after a long day of work.

Still, she nodded, because she was only human and Chris was fun to be around. Whether or not this was a good idea was a problem she would tend to later. Whether or not she would regret ever nodding her head and following him to the cozy looking _café_ situated on the last floor of a building and offering a beautiful view of the city was also an issue she pushed to the back of her mind. Right about now, she simply wanted a coffee and a good conversation.

Chris gestured her to choose a table and Helen smiled kindly then pointed at a two person table in a corner. No telling if she opted for the most remote table because she wanted intimacy or if it was because of the view – either way, Chris approved.

 


	4. Rule N°4

 

_Rule number four: Only boring people get bored._

 

“Alright,” she chirped. “Tell me about you. I don't know anything,” Helen demanded Chris, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm.

Chris thought she looked like she was expecting to hear the story of his life from start to finish. For a second Chris wondered what he was going to tell her – what he was supposed to tell her. _Oh, I'm just the typical asshole who uses women for his personal pleasure but won't commit, nothing special to say about me_. If he ever wanted to charm this girl, that would sure do the trick. He also heard Andreas' voice in the back of his mind telling him to get his shit together for fuck's sake.

“I don't know what to say, I have a pretty boring life,” he told her. It was the easy way out, they both knew it. Helen didn't look like she was buying it though.

“I don't believe that. Attractive people don't have boring lives,” she blurted out ever so innocently.

“You find me attractive?” Chris smirked so wide his face hurt and he leaned back in his chair. Could he sound any more cocky? Probably not. He knew it of course, but hearing it felt great.

“You know you are.”

The way she said it wasn't teasing or reprimanding. It was the most factual thing he had heard her say. Far be it from her to judge, she simply stated that he was good-looking. Chris had to admit that _this_ compliment left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Now tell me,” she said again, along with a simple smile which wiped away all traces of unease. “Who are you, Chris? Don't lie, I can always tell when people lie.”

That last warning was dropped so candidly that he didn't know if she was pulling his leg or being serious.

“I'm the last person you want to ask that,” he said. “I can tell you who I used to be, who I'd like to be, but I'm not sure I can tell you who I am.”

Helen leaned farther forward, both her elbows and hands on the table now.

“We're young and confused, it's okay we have time to figure out.” She gently encouraged him to continue.

“What do you expect to hear? You said it yourself, I look like trouble. I'm no boyscout.”

“Do you feel shame for your past?” Helen asked.

“No- I mean, maybe. I used to be proud of my shenanigans but the older I get the worse they feel.” He was now playing with the menu that was laying on the table. Now would be a good time for a waiter to come.

“I don't judge,” she said. “You say that you're not like that anymore so you can tell me.”

“Just imagine the worst, most self-absorbed jerk you could ever meet – well, that's me. Congratulations, you're spending your Tuesday night with the biggest fuck boy of all,” Chris almost snarled in distaste of this self-proclaimed title.

Helen opened her mouth to answer but that's the moment when the waiter finally came to their table. They ordered each a hot beverage and Chris asked for a piece of pie and two forks. As soon as the waiter turned around, Helen reach over to Chris. Her hand didn't quite touch him but it was close enough to show sympathy and that he was allowed to take it if he wanted. He did not.

“I don't agree. You don't strike me as a bad person,” she told him calmly and with less of an accent that usually. “We're all stupid when we're teenagers.”

“Some are stupider than others,” he pointed out.

He didn't bother trying to change her mind or contradict her. She could think whatever she wanted, deep down he knew he was a fuck up and an unreliable jerk. No amount of puppy eyes and sympathetic pout would change his opinion of himself.

“Hey, I'm supposed to get you to talk and better your Norwegian, why am I the one doing all the talking?” Chris suddenly asked to divert the conversation.

“Hearing Norwegian helps me too!” Helen tried to protest but Chris squinted his eyes at her and she gave in. “Okay, okay, I will talk.” She raised her hands in surrender. “But it's fifty fifty, I talk if you talk. Agree?”

“I just shared my dark past with you!” Chris said. “Your turn.”

“You didn't say much, just that you were not nice,” Helen crossed her arms over her chest now and leaned back too. “I am not an angel too you know?”

“-either,” he corrected her. “You're no angel either.”

“Right. I'm no angel either, I did stupid things in high school and I continue even now. I just look naive because I don't speak good and I'm shy speaking Norwegian.” She shrugged a little, as if to make it look like less of a big deal when really, Chris could tell she was embarrassed to admit this.

“You were doing good before though,” he pointed out. Not to congratulate her but merely to underline the fact.

“Yes, because we were speaking. It wasn't just me speaking and you listening. I get nervous when people listen with all their attention on me and I forget words.”

“I'm the least attentive person, you can relax. I get distracted when I'm in the presence of a pretty girl,” Chris replied teasingly.

He wanted to see her blush, nothing more, nothing less.

“ _Pervert_ ,” she shook her head in amusement and exasperation.

“Ha! I understood this word!” He exclaimed victoriously just when the waiter came back with their orders.

“Not the first time being called that?” She asked with an eyebrow raised. Once again her nose scrunched up when she laughed and Chris decided right then and there that it was his favorite thing about her – that is, until he found something else to like more.

“You have no idea. But you're not getting out of this, speak now woman!”

“You are too impatient!” Helen laughed again and took her steaming cup of coffee between her hands. “What do you want to know? It's more easy with questions.”

“How old are you? Where exactly are you from? What's your favorite pizza topping? Are you single? Do you have brothers or sisters?” Chris fired question after question in hope to conceal the one he actually wanted an answer to.

“I am twenty-two,” she said. Chris let out what he thought was a discrete sigh of relief upon hearing they were the same age, but she heard it. “I come from a small rural town in Province. I like my pizzas with barbecue sauce and without mushrooms. I'm an only child. And I don't think I need to answer the last question, I mean, I live here alone.”

The good thing with answering the most pressing question last was that Chris had to pay attention to everything that came before without being distracted.

“I'm twenty-two as well,” he said. Like they agreed, he would share if she shared and vice versa. “And an only child. I'm from Bergen but my dad works here so we moved to Oslo right before I went to high school.” He stopped there and like he expected, she took the bait.

“And are you single?”

“So you are interested after all?” He teased her, purely out of habit.

He didn't know how else to connect with a girl truth be told. He wasn't particularly funny or caring or smart, or any of those things that girls valued in a boy. He was just good-looking – and it turns out that once you walk out of the gates of high school, that doesn't help you get what you want as easily anymore. Girls wanted more – they deserved more of course, but for the first time in his life, Chris didn't know if he could offer it to them.

“No, I don't,” Helen proudly raised her chin and looked out of the window to their left before sipping her coffee. “You keep your status a secret, I don't care.”

“I don't think I need to answer either. It's pretty obvious isn't it?” He asked completely rhetorically. He was branded single. It was written on his forehead in sharpie.

“But-” she leaned back again and thought about what she was going to say before speaking. “-If you're good looking and not a jerk anymore, why single? It makes you sad I see, so why not change it?”

“I think the answer to this is obvious too,” Chris told her and looked at her pointedly.

“Me?” She asked in disbelief and pointed at herself. “The silly French girl who doesn't speak correct Norwegian?”

“You sound pretty damn good for a silly French girl who struggles with the language.

“You don't know me, Chris,” Helen scoffed. A fond smile still etched her lips though. But it was a sad one, as if she pitied him for liking her. It should be the other way around. She was the sweet girl having a sorta date with the infamous penetrator though she had no clue. “ _Je ne suis pas un cadeau non plus_.”

He didn't understand what she said this time but the tone of her voice alone made it clear that it wasn't a happy thought that crossed her lips.

“Let's not talk about this anymore,” she quickly changed the subject when it become too gloomy and grabbed one of the forks to dig in the rhubarb pie. “If you're twenty-two, you finish your degree soon?”

Using the other fork, Chris slid the plate with the pie closer to him again, earning a gasp of protest from the brunette sitting across from him.

“No, I'm in first year.”

“What did you do before? Travel?” Her inquiring sounded a lot less intrusive than it would have if she was still leaning on the table and looking at him intently. Now that her eyes were trained on the piece of pie he felt a little more relaxed and less under scrutiny.

“I tried uni but I dropped out because I didn't like what I did. Then I joined the military, and now I'm back to square one because my parents blackmailed me into going back to uni. This time I chose a degree I like though, so there's always that.”

“The military?” She ask with big, round eyes. She sounded fascinated. “Why go? And why leave?”

“Military service is mandatory in Norway,” he explained. “I did twelve months then I left.”

“What's 'mandatory'?” Helen asked him, titling her head to the side.

“It means obligatory,” he said. She only frowned more. “I have to do it, it's not optional.”

“Oh. We don't have that in France since a long time.”

“What did you do before coming here?” Chris asked her.

“I have a degree in medieval literature,” she told him casually. “I come here because I want to study vikings and Scandinavian literature of the medieval period and it's the only place I can study this. I spent last year learning Norwegian at home and now I moved here to get better before going to uni again to get my second degree.”

“Fy faen!” Chris cursed under his breath.

His eyes went wide in astonishment for the first time today – for the first time this month. It suddenly struck him that he had unjustly presumed she wasn't half as intelligent as she actually was, merely because she had trouble speaking his language. He realized she must be one hell of a conversationalist in French and would probably get tired of him quickly if he wasn't in an advantageous position right now. Maybe that's what's going to happen when she'll get more comfortable speaking Norwegian. She was already great, especially if you thought about the fact that she only started learning last year. She must have done nothing but that for a year straight. And she understood everything she read, and wrote flawlessly. It was the speaking part that she needed to work on, and the vocabulary. Soon, he would become useless to her.

Soon, he would become useless, period.

“You see-” she started, making Chris snap out of his dark thoughts. “-I think you are interesting.”

“My fascinating past in the military is interesting?” He asked, not quite sure he believed her. “It would bore the hell out of me if some dude told me about his military service.”

“Nah.” Helen shook her head and gave him a crooked smile with her fork between her lips. “Only boring people get bored. I like to think I am not boring.”

And with that, the stole the last piece of pie.

 


	5. Rule N°5

_Rule number five: Fake it 'til you make it._

 

“So, who are things going with your little Frenchie?” Andreas asked before his ass even touched the couch.

That was what he always did when he arrived at Chris' place, he kicked off his shoes and jumped on the couch. His lanky figure took all the place and that left only the chair for Chris to sit on. This time the cat was on the couch though, and it wasn't too happy to be disturbed. A loud mewl was heard from behind the cushions and suddenly an angry ball of fur jumped out and ran out of the living room.

“Shit, your cat scared me!” Andre cursed and replaced the cushions. “Now tell me, I want to know everything and Astrid too! You know she really had a hard time finding you a girl, I hope you didn't blow her off for nothing!”

“Stop playing match-maker, I don't want or need one, besides you suck at it. It's going fine, peachy,” Chris blatantly lied to his friend's face.

He hadn't seen Helen in over ten days and when he tried to text her she always sounded busy. A blow to his ego. But as long as he pretended that everything was alright then it would be.

“In my experience when you use two different adjectives to say the same thing, it means you're lying,” his friend argued and made himself home. He grabbed his phone charger out of his bag and plugged it in. “You got beer?”

Chris sighed and stood up. It was only four in the afternoon but he has learned not to question his friend's longing for beer at any hour of the day. He made a quick loop by the kitchen and checked on his cat – he called him William just so he could keep pretending his best friend was here. Pathetic, right?

“I'm not lying, you're just annoying the hell outta me dude,” Chris replied as he set the beer on the coffee table. “She's trying to find her bearings, I can't just harass her 24/7, the girl's got a job!”

“What kinda job?”

“I don't know,” Chris answered with a shrug.

He realized now that he hadn't asked her. He hadn't asked her anything apart from a couple futile questions. Maybe that was why she didn't seem to want to see him again. He tried to get rid of this bad habit of never actively taking interest in what the others had to say but it was a long journey – he came from very far.

“Girls like to be asked lots of questions,” Andre said before taking of sit of his beer and sighing in content. It was more of a neutral observation than a direct advice but Chris took note anyway.

“I know, but she's not too keen on talking about herself. She's a bit shy about _speaking_ , period. Her Norwegian lacks a bit of... authenticity and she's self-conscious about her accent. She mostly tries to have me talk.”

His friend's thinking face made a brief appearance and suddenly he sat up, elbows resting on his knees. Chris knew what was coming: the rant.

Andreas dived head first in a series of friendly pieces of advice that would – in his opinion – help Chris get in the lovely French girl's pants. While Chris appreciated his friend's concern – scratch that, his friend's obsession – with his love life, he was also hell bent on not letting him influence his choices in this matter. Chris let Andreas talk and he zoned out. Suddenly the sound of Andre's voice was drowned out by all the other sounds. His cat scratching the cat tree; the faint music he forgot the turn off coming from his bedroom; the clock hanging above the TV; the rain hitting the window.

Oh, he realized, it was raining. And not just the quiet afternoon rain, no. It poured. Drops of water hit the window like they wanted to break it and the sky turned dark gray within minutes. A storm. How appropriate.

“Wait a sec-” Andreas interrupted his monologue to check his phone. “It's Astrid, she wants to meet up and work on our chemistry assignment. Fuck, it's a downpour out there, I gotta go now or I'll be stuck in the storm.”

“You know where the door is,” Chris told him in a sort of absent-mindedness.

“You're hurting my feelings man, sometimes it feels like you're happy to see me leave,” he said in a mock-hurting voice.

“Hate to see you leave bu love to watch you walk away,” Chris joked and Andreas slapped his own ass on his way out, his beer still in hand.

How could Chris even begin to explain Andreas? He shook his head with a small smile and stood up to turn off the music. He wasn't in the mood. He wasn't in the mood for anything. Actually, the only thing he wanted to do was... Helen. No that sounded gross. Though not entirely wrong, what he wanted first and foremost was to see her again. Or maybe just to talk to her over texts. It was half past four and she should be back from work.

“Hva...?” Chris frowned when he heard a loud banging on his front door. Andreas must have forgotten his phone charger as per usual. He took he sweet time to walk out of his room and open the door. “Forgot someth-”

“Chris!” A very soaked and shivering Helen exclaimed as soon as she saw him.

Chris had the reflex to swing the door open although his mouth remained open and no words came out as she stepped in. In this single word – his name – he could hear her accent and he once again wondered why she would be embarrassed by it.

“I'm sorry I don't know where to go, I don't find my key and it's raining so hard,” she explained haphazardly as she hugged herself and tried not to put water everywhere.

“It's okay, it's fine,” Chris immediately told her. “It's just water, come in.”

Helen and her wet hair and clothes hesitantly walked in his living room. She looked terribly embarrassed for this and not at ease at all even though it was practically the spitting image of her own apartment.

“Shansa is not home and I can't put my hands on my key,” she explained, apologizing profusely as she made herself as small as possible.

“Shansa?”

“My roommate,” Helen said.

Chris' brain finally unfroze and he reacted quickly when he saw her trembling from the cold.

“Wait, we need to get you dry clothes before you get pneumonia or something, come with me,” Chris said and put his hand on her shoulder to give her towards his bathroom. “I'll get you something, you can take a warm shower and I'll put the clothes right behind the door, yeah?”

She nodded gratefully and jumped in the shower no sooner Chris turned around. Ten minutes later she opened the door and a pile of messily folded clothes laid on the other side. She put them on, caring little that they were boys clothing and didn't fit her. They were dry, nothing else mattered.

“Chris?”

“In the kitchen,” he called her. “Making hot chocolate.”

“You don't have to,” Helen said shyly and stepped in.

A large smile fought its way on Chris' face but he tried to conceal it just in case it might further embarrass her. She rolled up the sleeves on his hoodie and the legs of his sweat pants. The clothes seemed to swallow her up entirely – and he found himself loving it.

“You look nice in these,” he said before he could think about it.

“ _C'est vrai ce mensonge?_ ” She asked in a giggle. That was all Chris got from the sentence – that it was a question.

“What does it mean?” He asked with a little smirk that made his left dimple pop out.

“It means that I don't believe you but the effort of courtesy is appreciated,” she laughed and accepted the cup of hot cocoa he handed her. He only made one for her. “It's a French expression, I don't think there's an equivalent in other languages.”

“Is it weird that I think it's hot when you speak French?” He blurted out. If he was going to make a fool of himself – which is what he seemed to be doing right now – he might as well do it right. Go big or go home they say.

“I get that a lot and I don't know why.” Helen blushed slightly and tried to hide it by taking a sip of her beverage as casually as she could. “But it's normal that I don't understand it, it's my first language, it's boring to me.”

“How do I explain this?” Chris wondered out loud. “French words are long and you speak in this articulate manner with a deep voice. Or maybe your voice is just different when you speak Norwegian? Anyway, it's sensual.”

She snorted loudly – the last reaction Chris hoped to elicit with his open flirting.

“Sensual? _T'as de la merde dans les yeux, mon pauvre_! I'm literally wearing clothes to times my size and my hair's still wet from the shower, this is the opposite of sensual.”

Without any warning, Chris closed the space separating them. He saw how her laugh turned into a hiccup when she realized how close he suddenly was. He looked down at her with his signature half smile, his way to reclaim control over the situation. A moment she was the one embarrassed then it was him and now it was Helen again.

“That was really good, I couldn't tell you weren't native for a second,” he told her in an attempt to change the topic. “Except for the French bit of course.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a smile.”

“So, what are you going to do now? You don't remember where you put your keys?”

“I think I left them on my desk. I can go back through the fire escape, my window is not locked,” she told him and followed him in the living room.

She took a deep breath once Chris had stepped away from her – he really was close and she was afraid to breathe in too deep. Pretty boys tended to smell good too and she was already wearing his clothes, she couldn't afford to be any more star struck by this boy.

“Well then-” Chris began and Helen could tell that she was going to like was he was about to say as soon as she spotted his growing smirk. “-I guess you're stuck with me until the storm passes.”

“Whatever will I do?” Helen asked in a mock-dramatic voice and she plopped down on the couch next to Chris. Maybe a little too close, she thought too late.

She must appear like an innocent little girl to him. Chris radiated confidence, and she was the awkward new girl who couldn't string words together in the right order if her life depended on it. The delicate flower that bows under the weight of a rain drop – that was what people thought of her, she knew it. She felt the way they tiptoed around her as though she were some fragile thing ready to break any given moment.

What could he want from her? Score a French girl? That was the only reason she could think of. Helen wasn't stupid – in fact, she was very intelligent in French, but it was hard to prove when she barely managed to stutter out a few words in public. With Chris it was weirdly okay. With waiters who distractedly jotted down her order it was fine too. But as soon as someone came up to her to ask her something unexpected she lost her composure and blushed and mumbled.

What would Chris think of her if he saw that?

“Feeling better?” Chris asked her and thus burst her little bubble.

“Yes, good. I'm more warm now,” Helen smiled and placed her empty cup on the coffee table. Then she sat Indian style on the couch. She wore her socks – the only thing apart from her underwear that hasn't suffered too much from the downpour. Chris briefly thought that he still had no idea how long her hair really was because she had it tied up yet again.

“Hey, I need to ask: what is this about?” Helen pointed at the 'Penetrators 2016' printed on the hoodie she was currently wearing. “And why is your name on red?”

“ _In_ red,” Chris corrected her. “It's a long story,” he warned her. “Goes back to high school. And you probably won't like it.”

“I will be the judge of this,” she declared and shifted position.

Her entire upper body was turned towards him and all of a sudden Chris was struck mute – he was once again in the grip of his anxiety. With her full attention on him he was unable to string so much as two words together.

“I- euh- I guarantee you it's not pretty,” he told her in a pointless attempt to dodge this conversation.

He didn't know why he chose to give her this hoodie – he had others, completely neutral ones or even the University of Oslo hoodie. But when he saw it, abandoned at the back on his closet, Chris couldn't resist. It used to boost his confidence to see a girl – many girls – walk around with the Penetrator's hoodie on and his name in red letters on the back. It was intoxicating.

And wrong – oh so wrong to brand girls like that. And he did it to Helen, and now he felt bad. What seemed like an innocent gesture minutes ago was now a huge mistake.

Her smile wavered a bit when she saw Chris expression.

“What is it?”

“I was a real douche in high school and maybe I haven't totally out-grown being a douche yet,” he said to himself – mostly. “It's a long story.”

“It's okay. The day is still young,” she said ever so candidly.

She mustn't realize that some of her sentences were nearly poetical or outdated or childlike. She just couldn't tell the different yet. Chris could add this to the list of things he found endearing about her. The way she looked at him though wasn't endearing. The way she moved and the way she leaned against the back of the couch, a little bit too close to him, was not endearing – there must be another adjective to describe it.

“I was part of his very subtly named group called the Penetrators-” he started and Helen huffed in amusement at his self-derision. “-You can guess where the name came from I suppose.”

He went on to explain that it was a pun with Terminator and, well, penetrating. His lengthy explanation was scattered with embarrassed sighs and apologies that he didn't know who he was addressing to. There were many names on the long list of people Chris owed an apology to – and surprisingly, in the little more than two weeks he has known Helen, he hadn't managed to fuck things up yet. Possibly because he hadn't seen her as often as he wished he had.

He told her that all of the Penetrators had several copies of their hoodie with their name in red on the back and that they handed them around to all the girls they slept with. Never twice the same – with the notable exception of Eva, whom he never gave the hoodie to and slept with regularly throughout his last year of high school. He didn't mention Eva to Helen, there was no point since he hadn't spoken to her in two years now.

Chris had to tell her that it was a way to show everyone who they were, to prove to everyone that no girl could resist to the Penetrators, and especially not to Chris. This he told her. He owned the fact that he was the worst of them all. When he was over, it still hadn't stopped raining, but Helen hadn't run away.

“It's equally disturbing and cool,” was the first thing she told him when he was finished, and if Chris wasn't already sitting, he would have fallen over. “I mean- it was pretty disgusting to treat girls like that and I'm glad you do not anymore-” she paused. “-You don't do it now, do it?”

“No,” Chris answered and vehemently shook his head no.

“Good. At the same time I wish my friends and me had, like, matching hoodies, that is insane! But still, it's bad.” She bit on her lip. “I guess telling me this is an act of good faith. I can understand that you do stupid things during high school. I did drugs for a while – and it's worth than you in a sense, right?”

“Well, I don't know, I smoked weed too during parties. I still do,” Chris said, unsure of what she meant.

“No, no, not weed. I did medicine. Studying was difficult sometimes and I started taking drugs to concentrate and sleep less, it became bad. Being an asshole to girls is damage to their self-esteem maybe but no one got hurt in the process. Don't be too hard on yourself.”

“Too harsh,” Chris instinctively said. “The expression is 'don't be too harsh on yourself'.”

“Tak,” Helen said with a reassuring smile and Chris' eyes darted down when he felt her hand on his knee. She squeezed it lightly.

And the adjective Chris was looking for a little earlier suddenly hit him in the face like a truck going full speed on the highway. Seductive. She was flirting with him; this whole time he thought it was the other way around, that he was the one running after her and trying to win her over, but maybe he had it all wrong. Helen exuded confidence when you looked past her shy exterior – and Chris found that extremely alluring.

Before long, it stopped raining, and the clock struck eleven in the evening.

“I should go back. I work tomorrow and I need to prepare my lunch,” she said as a goodbye. They had talked the whole evening away, ate some pasta Chris made for them and watched a silly Norwegian sitcom and suddenly it was late and they were tired.

After grabbing and still wet clothes and promising to bring him back his as soon as she can, Helen climbed out of Chris' window to go join her apartment – and probably scare the living shit out of her roommate if she was there. She didn't see her ever often these days, she was a bit of a party animal and Helen suspected she had a regular hookup and slept at his place.

“God natt,” Chris whispered as he leaned on the window's edge. He didn't know why he had lowered his voice but it seemed appropriate to whisper in the quiet, post-rain night.

“ _Bonne nuit_ ,” she replied right before reaching her story.

Tonight, Chris would go to bed with a weight off his chest and the feeling that he had just recovered a part of himself that he thought was lost forever. The part that could open up and enjoy an quiet night in with a girl without having to make things sexual – his innocence.

 


	6. Rule N°6

_Rule number six: Ignorance is bliss_

 

“Fuck,” Helen muttered as soon as she closed the window behind her.

She rubbed her thumbs over her eyes and sighed before walking out of her room and into the bathroom to put her clothes in the drier. A loud clutter made her jump in surprise and spin on her heels with a little scream.

“Bloody hell!” A voice cursed behind her. “You sacred me!” Shansa was standing by the door, a baseball bat in her hand and dressed in her lucky shamrock pajamas. It was a gift from her mom when she left for Oslo. She claimed to hate it but never went to sleep without wearing it. “I could've smashed your brains out.”

“Why do you have a baseball bat?” Helen almost shouted, raising her hands in confusion.

“For this! For when someone breaks into the apartment!” Shansa explained as she lowered her weapon. There was something scribbled on it with a sharpy.

“Is it dedicated?” Helen asked her. She focused back on the drier and programed it.

“Yeah...”

“Didn't know you like baseball,” she laughed this time.

“I don't,” Shansa shrugged with a cunning smile. “But my ex boyfriend did and when he dumped me for my cousin I took it... as compensation for his being a bastard to me.”

“Compensation?” Helen asked with a frown as she walked past her roommate and out of the dimly lit bathroom. The ceiling light needed to get changed.

“It's payback, honey,” Shansa explained. “He had it coming. I could've sold it on ebay, but I didn't!”

“You're an angel,” Helen laughed. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was finishing a paper for tomorrow- but why am I the one answering questions, I'm home, you weren't! What have you been up to so late? And how did you get in without using the front door?” Shansa fired question after question and sat down in the kitchen.

Helen opened the fridge and grabbed various food items to prepare her lunch box for the next day.

“I forgot my keys, I thought you were still out and I got caught in the storm,” she told Shansa who listened intently. “I stayed at a friend's place until it passed and got in through my window.”

“A friend? What friend? You haven't talked to anyone since you moved here. Are you making tea? Make it to cups.”

A gentle smile adorned Helen's lips and she switched on the electric kettle.

“Which tea?” She showed her friend to box of tea and Shansa grabbed one. “Yes I made a friend, and I am going out, you are just never there and see it.”

“A good friend?”

“I know what you mean and it is not like you think,” Helen rolled her eyes before pouring the tea. “He lives under us.”

“The hottie that lives in the downstairs apartment? Well done, girl!” Shansa stood up and gave a friendly slap on Helen's bum as she walked past her and grabbed some sugar. “I knew you had game! A pretty girl like you can charm anyone.”

“I don't understand what you say,” Helen declared loudly, pretending she didn't know exactly was Shansa was saying.

Honestly she was still relatively embarrassed about her behavior earlier tonight. The way she put her hand on his knee and squeezed it was so out of line! It was too late to take it back now but it raised all sorts of red flags in her head when she touched him. Not that it was an inherently bad decision, Chris was cool and nice. She wanted to take it off nonetheless – except that doing so too quickly would be awkward as all hell so she left her hand where it was.

Chris didn't seem to be against it. She wasn't against it either. They were adults who were clearly attracted to each other, which didn't mean that it was a brilliant idea to give in to their urges. Helen couldn't afford jumping on the dick of her first friend here.

It was hard enough overlooking Chris' flirty comments and bedroom eyes – he liked her, she wasn't blind nor stupid. Nor immune to Chris' own charm. Fuck, she liked him.

“Oh don't you play this game with me! You're smarter than you let on, I know it, I read your file before letting you move in, remember?” Shansa huffed and giggled. She jumped on the counter and grabbed her steaming cup of peppermint tea. “Tell me, just between us girls... how is he from up close? I wish I could get an answer to that question myself but he never even looked my way.”

“He's alright,” Helen said with a pout and a slight shrug. Let it go Shansa, let it go, don't make me think about how handsome Chris is, she thought. Her prayers weren't answered.

“Alright?!” Shansa squeaked out, almost choking on her tea. “I never went to France but what kind of Adonis live there if you think he's only 'alright'?” She asked, airing quoting 'alright'. “What's his name?”

“Chris,” Helen told her. She ignored the first remark. Drop it Shansa.

“Chris,” she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue in a way that Helen could only qualify as erotic. It was borderline obscene and she couldn't even blame the girl. 

Why on earth did she answer Chris' relentless flirting? She knew it wasn't directed at her specifically, he looked like the kind of person who constantly flirted with everything that wore a skirt – or his sweatpants apparently. Why couldn't she keep her hands to herself and suck it up?

“You're zoning out,” Shansa told her, effectively bursting Helen's bubble. “Were you thinking about him?”

There it was again, Shansa's knowing, teasing smile that didn't announce anything good for Helen. She rolled her eyes but smiled amusingly.

“Of course you were!” She said before Helen had a chance to answer. “Who wouldn't? He's cute and probably rich, maybe a bit of a fuckboy but nobody's perfect, right?”

Helen didn't agree with Shansa's description but she remained quiet, her lips brought together in a thin line as she thought about what her friend just said. She met Chris not too long ago, Shansa lived here for a long longer than her, so who was better judge of Chris' character?

“He's my friend, the first one I make apart from you.”

“I get it, honey. Doesn't mean that it's wrong if you like him,” Shansa added, punctuating her sentence with a sip of her beverage. “Or if you don't know.”

“I don't know,” Helen immediately said. “Maybe I don't want to know, I think he hits me because he is the flirty type. I am no special, he do it out of habit.”

“He hits _on_ you, he doesn't hit you, that would be criminal.”

“He hits on me, yeah,” Helen mechanically repeated the words to better remember them. “It's fine to be just friends.”

“That's good, honey, that's good,” Shansa hummed soothingly as she gently brushed a strand of hair behind Helen's ear. “No matter how cute he is, I'm sure he doesn't deserve you, you're too sweet for the world.”

Except she wasn't sweet at all – it was funny how people she met since she moved always thought she was this innocent creature touched by divine grace or whatever. She wasn't. Helen was only human and she had filthy, dirty thoughts, bad impulses, shady intentions and a cunning mind. Even worse than that: she liked that people underestimated her, it gave her a certain freedom of movement. She smiled back and Shansa hopped off the counter, her cup of tea still in her hand as she bid her good night and walked away.

Another thing about her – she was impulsive. It didn't matter if she didn't know how she felt about Chris or how he felt about her. If the situation permitted it, she would take action all the same. Her body reacted to his presence and if her sober mind told her to back off, her heart told her to fucking go for it. It whispered “Get crazy girl, get over your self-doubt, no one cares about your accent or grammatically incorrect sentences.”

 

*

 

“I don't know what to think anymore,” Chris muttered under his breath, blowing out a puff of smoke and handing the joint to Andreas. They sat back to back on a brick fence next to one of the small parks surrounding the university of Oslo.

“Maybe you should stop, sounds like you're not very good at it,” Andreas snickered playfully and nudged Chris in the ribs. “

“Stop what?”

“Thinking, dude. Stop thinking, start _doing_.” He shifted and almost made Chris fall on his back. “That's priceless advice I just gave you, mediate on it.”

“You're not a goddamn relationship guru, man!” Chris told his friend. “That piece of advice isn't worth a penny.”

“Listen if you're going to blow me off like that, just don't come to me every time you want to complain about the drought that is your love life, or sex life, or whatever,” Andre shoved Chris off, reminding him he wasn't his personal counselor.

Chris brought both his hands to his face and rubbed it. He tried to rub off the tiredness, the frustration, but it remained there.

“Sorry, man,” Chris apologized. “I just- I think she might be playing me. I don't know who she is, it's like she changes personality everyday.”

“She's a girl, Chrissy. All those who are worth it are like that, get a grip!”

“You haven't even met her, what do you know if she's worth it?” Chris questioned before stealing the joint right from Andreas' mouth. “No one's special like that.”

“She is to you, otherwise you wouldn't be shitting bricks like you do just because she hasn't dropped her underwear yet.” It was like he read Chris' mind, but Chris refused to admit it out loud. “That was gross, but you get it.”

With one final sigh Chris got to his feet in a swift motion and rubbed the dust off his jeans. No amount of weed in the world could untie the knot in his gut, he might as well go home now before he was too high to complete the assignment he still had to write for tomorrow. Chances were he couldn't get much sleep that night.

“I gotta go,” he said begrudgingly. “I'll get my shit together.”

He had no idea why he promised that, because he remembered William telling him one day to never make promises he couldn't keep, but the words slipped from his mouth before he could think them through. Also fuck William, Chris didn't know why he still gave credit to what he told him, the dude left him behind and never looked back.

“Hey, we still need to work on that science project, you promised to help me this week!” Andreas reminded Chris. Here goes another dumb promise he made.

“Yeah, whatever. Just text me when you want to do that and I'll meet you at the library,” he said as he waved off and walked into the dark streets.

The park was a fifteen minutes walk away from Chis' building but it felt like a lot less, he simply did not look forward to arriving home. He would have to sit for hours on end at his desk, shooing off his cat who'd keep trying to sit on his keyboard, and downing energy drinks until he could see the sound.

Reality was little to no different at all from that – Chris came home, fed William the cat, kicked off his shoes, sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. He started blankly at his screen for about twenty minutes, not writing a word.

The clock made fun of him from across the room, the small hand points at the big twelve at the top. One hour and a thousand and three hundred words on logical connectors later, Chris' eyes left heavy and he was still nowhere near finished. Fuck, he needed a drink and some air. He scared the cat when he abruptly stood up and made the chair screech on the floor. He opened the fridge and briefly thought that he needed to go grocery shopping before grabbing a bear and going to the window. He opened it, spanned the window sill so he had one leg out one leg in, and popped the cap of the can against the window frame.

“ _Coucou toi_ ,” a feminine voice called from upstairs.

Chris looked up already knowing it was Helen. She was smiling down on him, a cup of something hot cradled between her hands, hair wet from a shower, no make up and loose pajamas. Somehow, just looking at her like that, made Chris the most aroused he'd been in weeks – no months.

“I assume this means 'Hello Chris, how are you? Haven't seen you in a week',” he teased her. She smiled wider and stood up. With one hand she closed her sweater around her middle and walked down the flight of stairs separating them.

“No,” she giggled and sat down facing him on his window sill. “That would have been- _Salut Chris, comment tu vas? Ça fait bien une semaine qu'on s'est pas vu_. ”

“To be honest I kinda feel like shit,” he admitted and it felt fucking great to say it out loud to an actual living person and not just to his cat. “Lotta work and other... stuff keeping me awake at night. I don't want to talk about it though, let's talk about something nice.”

“Something nice- let's see,” Helen said thoughtfully, bringing her knees up to her chest and looping her arms around her legs. She places her mug of cocoa – according to the sweet smell – on her knees and fiddled with the handle. “I got promoted, so now I can afford stuff which is... nice.”

“That it is,” Chris agreed.

“Speaking of nice, I still need to return the favor for you letting me stay when the storm was there and all,” Helen told him happily. “How does pizza sound? It's on me, I can come by this week, maybe the day after tomorrow?”

“That sure sounds nice,” he laughed, his face aching from the gesture – he wasn't used to smiling that big anymore. Around her he made an effort though because he noticed how she would smile twice as big as him when he did. “Let's drink to this! Skål!”

“Skål!” Helen cheered, gently bumping her coca mug against Chris' cold beer. “To pizza and late night chats with friendly neighbors!”

 


	7. Rule N°7

_Rule number seven: When nothing goes right, go left._

 

“I'm asking her out on a date,” Chris blurted out. He interrupted Andreas' rambling about... science stuff. To be honest he wasn't listening at all.

“Dude, my presentation is in two days, can you please focus? I know you have it bad for this mysterious French girl of yours but I need your full attention for ten more minutes,” Andre deadpanned and threw his eraser at Chris' face. Chris dodged it and flipped his friend. “You suck, I don't know why I'm still friends with you.”

“You love me man, don't even try to deny it.” Chris sounded confident as always but for half a second he actually wondered why Andreas dealt with him at all. “You need to make it less boring or I won't be the only one falling asleep during your presentation. Crack a joke or show pictures, everyone likes pictures they are easier to understand and forces them to pay attention.”

“Noted,” Andrea said and scribbled something down. “See? It's not that hard being a good friend.”

“You still haven't said anything,” Chris pointed out.

“About what exactly? The date thing? C'mon, if you had the balls it'd be done already. Face the facts, you lost your game. I'm sure this girl can't be that intimidating, you're putting her on a pedestal and letting her take control of whatever relationship you have with her. Grow a pair and ask if you think she's worth it, but the more you whine about her, the less sympathy I have for the chick.”

“Harsh!” Chris commented, leaning back and trying to keep his balance on the two back feet of his chair. “She's worth it. I think she is. You haven't met her.”

“No I haven't, which is why I'm staring to wonder if she's not a mere figment of your darn imagination.” Andreas rolled his eyes. “And if you still feel like lamenting over a girl, please go bother Astrid and not me anymore.”

“You suck at friendship just as bad as me,” Chris replied and let his chair fall back on its feet.

He wasn't going to sit through another hour of presentation editing and stressing over the grade Andre will get for this if he wasn't even going to get a second to talk about his issues. Yeah it was selfish and so what? Chris was Chris, and he was selfish. So selfish that he was going to stop whining and stop pretending he only wanted to be friends and help Helen improve her Norwegian.

Just when Chris made his decision, he saw Andreas throw his head back and rub his face.

“Alright, I get it, your feelings are hurt. You like a girl and for the first time in forever, she shows no sign of liking you back – welcome to the real world Chrissy.” That fucking nickname again. “I don't know what to tell you that would make you feel better about this, just- just tell her man. Tell her you like her and if she laughs at your face and that's it, the end.”

“Wow, best advice ever,” Chris snorted and looked again.

His eyes darted to the window a few meters to his right and he focused on the skyline instead of listening to the beating of his own heart pulsing in his temples. He made a conscious effort to settle down and took a moment to wonder why he was so mad suddenly. When he counted all the skyscrapers twice, he was more calm.

“You asked for it!” Andre said, pointing at Chris with his pencil. “I'm not a relationship counselor, I'm a physics student. I talk about molecules and shit, not feelings.”

“You sure aren't.“

“Listen Chrissy, if it doesn't work out with-” He paused, waiting for Chris to fill in the blank.

“-Helen.”

“Yes with Helen, then Astrid and I will look out for you, yeah? We'll find you a girl ten times that hot and funny or whatever you like about her. I already have someone in mind, it's a girl I've been seeing around here for a few weeks, she's the living proof God is real.”

“Not interested in playing blind date,” Chris sighed. “Just finish that boring presentation so I can work on my own stuff, I want to be finished before going home.”

“Plans tonight?”

“Nah, just pizza and TV, but I wanna enjoy it,” Chris lied to his friend's face. Sure there would be pizza, but there would be Helen too.

“Mmh...” He sounded unconvinced. “Anyway, once you see the girl I'm talking about you'll change your mind-” he continued, ignoring Chris' annoyed expression and the way he angrily fidgeted with his pencil.

“How can you even tell I'll like her, maybe she's not my type?” Chris asked.

“Euhm? Sorry, is 'perfect' not your type?” Andreas replied with a school girl's voice before snapping his fingers in a 'Z' formation. God help him, Chris was going to punch him.

“Andre, man! Shut up, alright?! I said I wasn't interested!”

Chris' small outburst caught the attention of several people who glared at him for troubling the quietness of the library. Why did they keep meeting up here? They couldn't even talk!

“Never mind, you'll change your mind soon enough because she just came in.”

Was that why they kept coming here? Was Andreas drooling over another girl? Someone else than Astrid? It couldn't be, she came here too.

“Look at that, a Greek goddess wouldn't look better,” Andre said.

“Not looking,” Chris said and stubbornly stared outside the window.

“Now I know what went through Paris' mind when he started a war over a woman,” his friend kept rambling and drooling while looking over Chris' shoulder.

“Still not looking.”

Chris couldn't help but think that the woman Andreas was thinking of was Helen of Troy and it stirred something unpleasant in Chris' gut.

“She's the human embodiment of a candy apple!”

“Enough!” Chris snapped, once again drawing attention to him. “What?!” He barked at the poor boy who dared look at him the wrong way.

“Shit,” Andre suddenly muttered. His smile fell. “She's coming this way.”

“What are yo-”

“I'm not kidding, she's walking right this way!” He slumped down in his chair, like he was trying to go invisible or make himself smaller. “This can't be happening right now, I'm wearing last week's underpants!”

“What does it have to do with anything?!” Chris frowned and shook his head. “I swear, if you're messing with me-” Chris began to threaten, looking stern and ready to snap again when he narrowed his eyes at his friend. But Andreas had seemed more serious than right this moment.

“I'm not kidding man, we're in luck today!”

“ _We_? You have a girlfriend and I'm after a girl that seemingly doesn't like me back, where in this equation do you place your Greek goddess?”

“Chris!”

Everyone froze. Chris didn't move a muscle because someone had put a hand on his left shoulder, Andreas was staring at him with his jaw hitting the floor, and Chris had somehow recognized the voice of the person who just called his name.

“I knew it was you!” Helen giggled happily as she walked round the table and said a quick hello to Andreas and stiffly waved her hello back. “I can't believe you are here and we could have seen each other any time!”

“W-what do you mean? What are you doing here?” Chris managed to stutter out. Fuck, Andre would never let him live this down, he couldn't fuck up this small interaction in front of his friend. It was a question of honor and a matter of self-confidence – Chris' was already shrinking by the second and soon it'll turn to dust if he didn't do something about it.

“I work!” Helen answered as if it was obvious. “I'm an assistant librarian,” she said proudly, rasing her chin.

It dawned on Chris that Andreas was right through and through. She was beautiful in a way he had never seen a girl be beautiful before. She exuded something she lacked of the first time he met her in that dark staircase. Now she wasn't shy anymore, she didn't mind having an accent that much and since she got to know Chris she stopped blushing and mumbling and began to speak freely.

“You must be Chris' best friend,” she told Andre, who pointed at himself almost as if he wasn't sure she was speaking to him. “Chris tells me about you sometimes,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah?” He laughed nervously. “He tells me about you too – sometimes.”

Chris kicked Andreas under the table, which made him grunt in pain and he had to pretend to have a cramp.

“You've been working here this whole time? At uni?” Chris asked in bedazzlement. Helen nodded.

“Yes, and I have to get back to work, my boss is watching,” she told them and waved goodbye as she walked back to the trailer buried under hundreds of returned books.

As he watched her walk away, Chris realized that she wore her hair down. The bits framing her face were twisted back and tied behind her head to keep it out of her hair but the rest of her hair cascaded down her back and swayed from left to right when she walked. And she was dressed up too – not fancy but still elegant. Was it one of those French stereotypes that were true? Were French girls more elegant than most others? In any case, Helen sure was. Chris had only seen her in jeans, hoodies or even his sweatpants, and never in a million years had he imagined that her daily wear would look like this.

Her heels made no sound on the thick layer of carpet on the floor and he mid-long skirt emphasized her waist. The flowing sleeves of her blouse and the bow around her neck looked like something Coco Chanel would have drawn. At least, that's how Chris imagined it. What did he know about French couture? Nothing. The point was – Helen was an otherworldly creature and Andreas was damn right.

“Chris!” Andre called him, making him turn his face back to him. “I take back everything I said about her, you need to rom-com your way through this and run after her. Marry this girl Chrissy, give her your babies or whatever. I mean you're an okay looking dude and she's perfect, your children will look like angels!”

“Are you high right now?” Chris questioned in all seriousness. Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last. “Don't answer that. I was going to follow her anyway.”

“That's my boy!” Andre cheered when Chris stood up and ignored the people who glared at him for disturbing their studying yet again.

“Fuck me,” Chris muttered to himself as he looked for Helen in various isles until she found her, standing on his toes to try and put a book back on the top shelf. This was as cliché as it could get so why not take it a notch further? God big or go home.

“Helen?” He called her and when she looked at him he leaned forward to grab the book from her and put it on the shelf for her. “I'm glad to see you, I actually needed to tell you something.”

His tone must have been too serious because her smile dropped.

“Do you want to cancel tonight?” She immediately wondered.

“Wh- no! No, absolutely not!” He told her with a heartfelt laughter. He was too nervous about this and too relieved to hear that she was still planning on coming tonight. “Nothing like this. I just- I was-” the words were stuck in the back of his throat. He counted to three in his head before blurting out “Go out with me.”

“But- I thought we were hanging out at your place?” She tilted her head and put a hand on her hip.

“No, not tonight but- someday this week or next week – whenever you want. Let me take you out, on a date. Not as a friend, as Chris, the boy who likes you.”

As the words came out, his confidence came back and Chris could feel his old self peek out of the box he put it into. Penetrator Chris and his fuckboy ways, Penetrator Chris and his arrogance and sufficiency, Penetrator Chris the irresistible ladies' man. Maybe he wasn't all bad, just like new Chris wasn't all good.

“This is not a good idea,” Helen said. He was almost fooled – except her voice said one thing and her body language another. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, her eyes shone, she gave a small bite to her lip and her fingers played the piano on a book's spine. Suddenly Chris wasn't sure why he was freaking out about asking her out.

“I'm not asking if it's a good idea, I'm asking if you want to,” he said cleverly. Helen smirked in too mischievous a way to be innocent and maybe it was a side of her Chris had yet to discover, but he figured she might have a little bit of _Penetrator_ in her too.

“Do you even need to ask?” She laughed silently. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Doing as he was told, Chris walked backwards out of the isle and winked at her before going back to Andre who must have popped a vein from being so tense.

“Man, tell me you got the girl, if you don't have a date with her, get your ass back over ther-”

“I have a date with her, now shut up and let's get it over with your dumb science thing.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Rule number eight: The quickest way to someone's heart is through their fourth and fifth rib. Or is it?_

 

Chris remembered sitting down on his couch after somewhat cleaning his apartment. It was a couple hours ago and he was still in the same position. Maybe he was over thinking this whole ate thing, maybe it wasn't worth getting gray hair over it. He should definitely relax and let the flow guide him, just show up ten minutes late and strut in the room with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile on his lips. Yes, he vaguely recalled doing that numerous times back at Nissen and he even remembered that it worked nine times out of ten.

At the time it wasn't important for him to make a good impression as long as he made a lasting impression. Cleaning his entire living space just because a girl came over to eat pizza wouldn't even cross his mind and now he couldn't think of anything else but that stain of alcohol he couldn't get out of his couch's arm rest. Helen already knew what his apartment looked like so he couldn't entirely rearrange the space or anything drastic like replacing the entire fucking couch.

Again – over thinking. Surely she didn't even care or wouldn't even notice. They usually hung out by the fire escape stairs, sometimes less than dressed down, barely awake or almost asleep, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, blinded by the first or last rays of the sun. Weird how a day would turn out either great or terrible depending on those moments. Waking up to Helen sitting by her window one story above him, eating her cereals and staring at the city in the early moments of the day, was the perfect example of what Chris considered a good start. Going to class sure was a pain, but at least he didn't have to eat his breakfast alone with William the cat.

That cat seriously started to get on his nerves – a bit like William the human piece of garbage who left him for his fucking scones and fish'n'chips. For instance right this moment, the cat sat by the edge of the kitchen window and stared at Chris' limb form slouched on the couch like a boneless mess, and he judged him from afar. That small ball of fur was giving him 'See what hot mess you've become?' glare, and at some point Chris gave up and stood up to open the window so William could go out and stop this little game of his. His cat giving him judgmental stares was the last thing Chris needed, he was already berating himself enough.

Helen would most certainly not arrive at his door with her arms full of pizza boxes, dressed to the nines and in heels. She would be in jeans and t-shirt, her hair would be tied back for practical reasons and her makeup probably off. And he would still be nervous about this evening. Hell, he should have waiting until tomorrow to ask her out. Andre's voice interrupted his thoughts to tell him that he would have chickened out if he hadn't done it at the library. Chris liked to think that his friend was wrong – even though he wasn't even there, his advice being a mere figment of Chris' imagination – and that he would have won over Helen at some point anyway.

Something he noticed a while ago was that he developed a tendency to simply _wait and see._ It was his new approach to nearly everything. It didn't sound like him at all to stay passive and wait for things to happen to him instead of making them happen. Andre said that he lost his fire. His parents thought he was depressed. Chris simply thought he has been a little off his game – for the last couple years.

A loud and rather abrupt knock of the door caused Chris to jerk forward and get ripped out of his thought. He was on his feet before his brain could process what was happening. The door flung open so quickly it scared the person who stood behind it – a person who was not his lovely upstairs neighbor but a person who had pizza in their arms.

“Ugh, Christoffer Schistad?” The boy asked. He looked barely fifteen and his hand shook a little as he handed over the pizza to Chris without even waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?”

“Pepperoni pizza without olives for you, it's already been paid for- oh and she asked me to give you this.” The boy then proceeded to pull a crumbled piece of paper out of his Domino Pizza jacket and placed in on the pizza box. “G-good evening sir.”

And the kid dashed away before Chris could collect his thoughts and say something. He closed the door with his foot and set the pizza down on the coffee table in the living room. His attention was elsewhere, Chris forgot about the food and focused on the paper which he unfolded and read attentively with his brows knitted together in confusion.

“ _I promised you a pizza :) I'm sorry I won't be able to come and share it with you but Shansa had an accident involving a kitchen knife and I had to take her to the ER. Maybe see you later by the window? - H_ ”

In a fit of rage and frustration, Chris threw the paper out of said window and nearly flipped the pizza off the table too but he quickly recomposed himself. He ran a hand through and hair and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering what to do now. He suddenly found himself being restless – he couldn't simply shrug this off and eat his pizza alone, with William the cat judging him even harder. Maybe his cat was right to judge him, maybe he should do something – _anything_. Although the gesture was appreciated, Chris disregarded the pizza and once again left the couch He headed for his room to grab a sweater and swiftly put on some shoes before exiting the empty apartment.

When he reached the elevator he realized he forgot to feed his cat and turned around to fill his bowl, then ran out again. In one smooth and trained movement, Chris pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Andre's number. He never answers before the fifth tone, he says it naturally filters his incoming calls.

“Sup?”

“What are you doing now?”

“I'm not doing anything, we're hanging out at Astrid's place watching reruns of The Voice. You on the other hand should be busy right now,” Andre snickered. Of course the bastard hadn't forgotten about Chris' pizza night. He was worth that a high school girl.

“She bailed. Her roommate's at the hospital,” Chris sighed in the phone and stopped walking at the bus stop. “I'm outside now, I was gonna go do something thoughtful and romantic but then I realized I have no idea what either of those words imply.”

There was a gasp and a sound of protest then a girl's voice rang through the phone.

“Chris, my child,” Astrid started with a parent-like tone. “This girl you both seem to think is some kind of divine creature is just a girl okay? It's not like she didn't want to come, if she took her friend to the hospital it must have been serious. Stop trying to constantly impress her, she'll grow tired of it trust me.”

“Don't listen to her Chrissy!” Andreas' voice exclaimed. “That's what they want us to think!”

“It's the truth, just relax and wait for her to come back, it's just a pizza night, not a freakin' wedding rehearsal dinner,” Astrid continued. “Be yourself, you're not as much of a fuckboy as you like to think. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to enjoy the rest of the evening with my boyfriend. Sometimes it feels like you two are married, I swear to god! Don't do anything stupid, okay? Bye!”

And just like that she ended the phone call and Chris was left to listen to the dead tonality.

“And they say they're my friends,” Chris huffed as he put the phone back in its designated pocket.

Out of brilliant ideas – or just plain old ideas for that matter – Chris sat down on the bench next to the bus stop. He seemed to have made an habit out of this – just sitting down somewhere and getting lost in his thoughts without ever finding any solution to his problems. The sun set and three buses drove by before he finally got tired of waiting and left the bench. Instead of walking right back to his place he decided to take the long way home and walk through the park – if only to avoid the constant noise of the traffic and the people.

It began to rain but Chris had ran out of fucks to give a long time ago and merely put on his hood and kept walking straight ahead. The way back to his place took less time than he expected. He was yet again trapped between those empty four walls. Only this time he had an _idea_.

 

*

 

“Is this a bad moment?” Chris asked hesitantly when a strange ginger girl with her hand bandaged up opened the door, a crooked knowing smile stretching her lips.

“It's never a bad moment for pretty boys and pizza,” she replied cheekily although she had never met him. “Helen!” She turned around and called over her shoulder. “Your suitor is here and he brought dinner!” Then she looked back at him and gestured him to get inside.

“Shansa, is it?” He asked out of pure formality. “I'm Chris.”

She grinned and nodded before snatching the pizza from his hands and scurrying off to the kitchen. Just when things were about to become awkward for Chris who was standing on his own in the hallway, Helen came into view and holy molly, he was not prepared for this. She looked out of breath and a little disheveled, but oh so stunning. It was a strange mixture of her dressed up attire of earlier today and her more relaxed clothes. It seems that Shansa and her knife interrupted Helen's changing because she still wore her skirt but it was paired with a men’s shirt, which was messily tucked inside the skirt, and a pair of worn out flat shoes.

“Chris!” She exclaimed, as if surprised. How many 'suitors' did the girl have? “What are you doing here?”

He kicked off his shoes and walked forward, trying to put as much nonchalance as he possibly could in his demeanor. This never required as much effort before.

“Came for our pizza night,” he said with a shrug. No big deal. “I brought your pizza by the way but your hungry roommate already took it.”

She laughed. It sounded different than usual – relieved, nervous, excited, all at the same time.

“You didn't have to do this,” she said sweetly but still let her hand reach toward Chris to gesture him to follow her.

“But I wanted to. I was looking forward to sharing a pizza with you.”

“But it's half past ten, Shansa is on painkillers and I still haven't gotten the time to change,” Helen said in a sigh before setting her tired eyes on him. Maybe it wasn't a good idea after all. “I'm glad to see you nonetheless.”

“Present perfect and 'nonetheless', huh?” Chris asked and raised an eyebrow. “Have you been reading grammar books behind my back?”

“No silly! But I sit at the back of some open classes sometimes, they said I could do that since I work at the library,” she explained.

“Hey!” A feminine voice called for their attention and both their heads turned to Shansa who stood in the kitchen door frame, only wearing colorful leggings and a knitted sweater with her initial on it, holding a piece of pizza up to her mouth. “When you two lovebirds are done giving heart eyes to each other, maybe we can sit down and eat that pizza with a pack of beer, yeah?”

“We're coming,” Helen replied with an affectionate tone but accompanied by an eye roll.

“That pizza's cold by the way,” Shansa said in between two bites. “Kudos for you pretty boy, the only thing better than warm pizza is cold pizza.”

“Don't even listen to her, she's already weird normally but the medicine is making it worse,” Helen laughed. “Come sit down, I'll grab the beer. Shansa please don't scare him away.”

“Whatever you say roomie,” she grumbled. “I'm charming and witty, if that scares him away, he's not worth it-”she said to Helen who was already walking away before turning back to Chris and adding “-but you're still a sweet sight for sore eyes.” As if it changed anything.

“You sound like my friend Andreas,” Chris suddenly said, only realizing how accurate it was when the words had crossed his lips.

“Is he single?” Shansa asked eagerly while leaning forward and chewing on her pizza.

“No,” Chris snickered. He liked that girl – whether it was by nature or the meds, she wasn't afraid to speak her mind and he liked that. A quality that Andre somehow managed to turn into a flaw because of his big mouth but still- it was appreciated.

“His loss,” she said dramatically. “Need help with those beers sweetie?” She asked louder for Helen to hear.

“No, no I'm good,” she said upon entering the living room, carrying a tray with three glasses and several beers on it.

She set it down next to the pizza box on the coffee table and Shansa used her phone to put on some music while Helen took place on the couch. She naturally chose the spot next to Chris, simultaneously too close and too far away from him. Only Shansa was oblivious to that – or if she noticed she was very good at pretending she didn't see.

“I'm happy to see you – again,” Helen said again lowly, only for Chris to hear. “Couldn't think of anything better to lift the mood after the scare she gave me,” Helen scrunched up her nose and pointed at her friend who decided to take up as much space on the couch as she could since the other two were glued to each other.

“It was an accident!” She protested. “Don't be mean, I'm the one with a severed finger,” she pouted to elicit some compassion from Helen but the girl merely rolled her eyes again, obviously used to her friend's antics.

“Poor thing,” Chris laughed. “You know I tend to agree with her Hel, she could have died after all.”

“See?!” Shansa exclaimed in her most dramatic tone. “Your boyfriend is on my side!”

“He's not my-” Helen began but stopped and rubbed her eyes with one hand. “Shansa, stop being a baby before I make you drink your beer from a sippy cup.”

“Do we _have_ a sippy cup?” She asked and she sounded all too eager to actually try and drink her beer from said cup.

Chris observed and ate in silence as the two girls bickered back and forth with increasing enthusiasm, as though this was their very way of communicating.

“Why'd you call her Hel?” Shansa suddenly asked him, waking Chris from his trance like state. She nodded her head in Helen's direction as if to make sure he knew what she was talking about.

“It's short for Helen?” Chris answered hesitantly, the statement almost coming across as a question. “And Hel's a goddess in norse mythology,” he added and immediately regretted, feeling as if he had dug his own grave by doing so. The smirk on Shansa's face indicated that this is what she was trying to make him say in te first place, knowing full well that Hel was short for Helen.

“Sounds like 'hell',” Helen commented before grabbing a piece of pizza – before Shansa ate it all – and chugging down some beer. It really was uncanny to see her act so relaxed and laid back when she was still wearing that no doubt expensive skirt.

“It comes from _helja_ and means 'to welcome' or 'to shelter', but she is the goddess of the dead. She receives the fallen warriors dead in battle,” Chris explained under the girls' puzzled gazes. “What? I did take a course on that, it's not just random trivia I pulled out of my ass.”

“So she's like, the Scandinavian version of Persephone?” Helen said, trying to connect the dots.

“Except she rules the underworld alone, and she's a maiden,” Chris added with a shrug.

“That means she's a virgin,” Shansa whispered to Helen although Chris could hear it.

“I know what it means, you silly,” Helen said. “It's very interesting though, it's a rather advanced way of thinking to put your afterlife in the hands of a woman for the time and it's fascinating to see the difference between the way the Greek and the Scandinavian people consider women. Could be an good memoir subject to compare the two and their influence on literature, it-”

“Oh! Stop it girl! You're giving me a headache!” Shansa interrupted Helen's passionate rambling, making her blush out of embarrassment in the process.

Chris on the other side stored that information away in his mind, taking mental notice to bring it up later since she seemed so transfixed by it. History and literature were her thing after all, that's what she came to study here in the first place.

“This pizza would be better with olives,” she then commented, giving a disappointed glace to her piece before shoving it in her mouth.

Helen face palmed upon seeing her friend act like she was raised by wolves and stood up to get some napkins.

“But you my friend really know the way to a girl's heart,” the ginger girl told Chris as soon as Helen was out of eavesdrop.

“Do I?” He asked, unconvinced. “What would that be? For future reference.”

“Through her stomach, duh!” She stated as if it was obvious.

 


	9. Rule N°9

_Rule number nine: Actions speaks louder than words._

 

“Girl, you're not going out dressed like this,” Shansa yelled from across the apartment, pointing at Helen who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

The ginger girl jumped to her feet and dashed towards her roommate before she could escape, then dragged her back to her room by the arm. As confused as can be, Helen let herself being led away from the front door and stumbled back to where she came from.

“What is this?” Shansa asked – rhetorically of course – as she gestured to Helen's overall appearance. “God gave you a rocking body and this outfit is an insult to all of us who haven't been so lucky,” she began her scolding, not giving Helen a chance to protest. Not that she was going to, she knew better than to try and argue with Shansa.

“Okay, what is wrong with my outfit?” Helen asked amusingly and with patience as her friend rummaged through her closet like crazy.

“Everything, girl. There's nothing to save, expect maybe your dignity thanks to me – you're lucky I stopped you from going out that door. Repeat after me: I will not, ever, go to a date in jeans,” Shansa articulated slowly and expectantly waited for Helen to say the words.

“I will never wear jeans to a date,” she said to please her. “But Chris hasn't told me where we're going so I don't know how to dress.”

If Shansa's scowl was any indication, this was not a convincing argument. Clearly Helen would have to do better if she wanted to leave the apartment wearing jeans ever again.

“Sweetie, you look hotter than that when you go to work,” she replied. “Don't forget he already saw you there, so you can't go out dressed down.”

“C'mon, it's just Chris,” Helen wailed dramatically before standing up and trying to stop Shansa from thrashing her wardrobe. “He won't mind.”

“I can't tell if you're saying this because you're genuinely that naive or if you're a hundred percent sure he's going to follow you around like a puppy no matter what garbage bag you wear,” Shansa said with a click of the tongue. She shoved a ball of clothes in Helen's hand and said,” try these on for me without complaining and I'll let you wear flats.”

With a pout and rather reluctantly, Helen agreed with an inarticulate groan and executed herself. As soon as the jeans were off, Shansa grabbed them with the tip of her fingers and threw them back in the closet. It took a couple outfit changes for Shansa to be happy.

“Good, because you made me late!” Helen grumbled, rushing from left to right to pick up her boots, bag, and coat.

“You'll thank me when you get some tonight, just make sure it happens at his place because I have an assignment to finish and I'm not seeing the end of it.”

“I hate you!” Helen shouted as she slammed the front door shut, already running upstairs.

“She so loves me,” Shansa whispered to herself, hands firm on her hips and surrounding by Helen's entire wardrobe scattering the floor. “I have to clean up the mess now, don't I?”

 

*

 

Looking back on it, the outfit issue really was the least of her priorities because it was already dark outside. The flats were necessary though.

“I might be shooting myself in the foot by saying this but I'm glad you were late because I was too,” Chris told her the moment they left their building and started their walk through the lively streets.

“Was it your best friend forcing you to try on different outfits that made you late?” Helen scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Shansa held me hostage until she gave me her green light.”

The confusion on Chris' face was worth it though.

“Andreas has nothing to do with that but it was a safe guess,” he laughed. “No actually my cat wreaked havoc and I had to clean up after him.”

Her face lit up in the typical way that girls' faces lit up when they saw a baby animal and Chris grinned wider, looking down to his feet and pretend-kicking a ball. When he got that hellish creature he never thought it would get him points with girls, he just wanted an equally brooding companion.

“You have a cat?” Helen cooed.

She was fond of furry friends like most people are, especially cats, but the one thing that struck her in the moment was that she did not have this piece of information despite all the time they spent together. She didn't see Chris' apartment too much.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “You've seen him already, he hangs out by the fire stairway sometimes. The mean black cat that doesn't like people.”

“Sounds familiar. Now, where are you taking me exactly? So far I followed you quietly through town but you need to give a girl a hint,” Helen demanded as she gestured around to the unknown part of the city. “I could not find my way home without you, I have no idea where we are.”

And in a smooth, delicate movement, she slipped her hand under Chris' arm and held on, her fingers gently gripping on the inside of his elbow to help her keep up with his long strides. Or that was what she told herself – either way Chris did not mind. It was the first time he did not feel confident in skipping the awkward 'can I put my hand here?' stage and go straight for the part where his hands were all over the place. He itched for a bit more contact that this simply hand on his arm, but he didn't want to blow this.

Good thing his hands were in his pockets because if they were not he would have put his arm around her shoulders – it was the natural thing to do for him. Did he have to kicked down ever last one of his instinctive gestures? No, he couldn't. And he wouldn't.

“I'm taking you to a cool place. They make killer food and we can eat by the canal if you're not too cold,” he told her – she still had no idea where they were or where exactly they were headed but she didn't really mind. “Then we go dancing. To a bar, or a club, you decide.”

“Clubbing?” Helen's eyebrow shot up and she pushed herself slightly more against Chris as she added, “Is that where you take your dates normally? Get a little jack and coke in their system to warm them up?” She was only teasing him but it hit pretty close to home.

“Not anymore,” Chris told her in all seriousness, reminding her of his troubled past with girls and his general foul behavior in high school.

“Oh, come on now,” Helen said with a smile. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“We're almost there, it's the restaurant with the red front over there,” Chris informed her, pointing to the place. His overall mood dropped a little and he changed the subject, Helen had noticed and she stopped in her tracks.

“Chris, I think it's very fair game of you to have told me about your fuckboy ways. Now the slates are wiped away. I was only joking- granted it wasn't too funny.”

“Wiped clean, the slates are wiped clean,” Chris corrected her automatically but Helen was having none of his attitude and withdrew her hand from his arm to crossed hers over her chest. “Yeah right, sorry I'm a bit defensive today.”

There was no way in heaven and hel that he would admit to her that he got lectured about his, quote, 'fuckboy ways' by Astrid and Andre last night.

“We don't have to do this if you're not in the mood,” Helen tried to reassure him. He did look uncomfortable, and she didn't want to force him into a situation where he wouldn't even enjoy himself, nor did she want to endure this tense evening. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot tonight. It's all weird and tense between us, it's never been like this before. We can call it off if you changed your mind.”

“Fy faen, no! This is the opposite of what I want, believe me!” He assured her, finally looking at her. Her brown eyes were set on him as she waited for an explanation. Obviously she wasn't going to carry out this date if he didn't relax.

“It's probably because I haven't taken a girl on a proper date, ever,” Chris confessed, his body stiffening a bit. His eyes avoided her and he kept shrugging as if it were no big deal. He tried to play it casual when he was actually awkward about it. “If you're wondering why my hands are in my pockets, it's because my palms are sweating and not because I don't want to touch you. I'm actually holding back from touching you.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” He exclaimed, not seeing the little smirk on Helen's features when he finally dropped the act. “It's painfully obvious that I really like you and I have no idea how to behave when what I want from a girl is not in her pants. Where do I take her out? How do I greet her? Where am I allowed to put my hands? How long am I supposed to wait before trying to kiss her? There's not fucking manual for idiots like me who waited until their twenty second birthday to ask a girl out.”

“Wow, that was more passionate than I expected. Feeling better?” Helen asked, feeling rather proud for making him snap. “You know most situations are only awkward if you make them. It's just me – in a fancy dress selected by my lovely roommate but just pretend I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Don't see this-” Helen gestured to the both of them as they resumed their slow walk to the doors of the restaurant. “-as some kind of formal date where you have to watch everything you say. It's Christoffer and Helen grabbing dinner and sitting by the canal.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” she cut him off. “If I didn't like you I wouldn't be here at all, and I didn't take a fancy at an awkward, all tense dude. Do what you always do. Joke around, tease me, make innuendos like flirting with me is the reason why you were put on this earth.”

Both of Chris' eyebrows shot so far up they almost disappeared under his hair but it was a nice kind of shock. Soon puzzlement was replaced by his infamous smirk.

“Yes! Like this! This smile here,” Helen beamed.

“So you do notice when I flirt shameless with you?” He asked, suddenly all smug. Helen tilted her head, making her hair follow the movement, and she mirrored his crooked smile.

“A blind person would notice Chris.”

“So you've been purposely ignoring my attempts at- at-”

“At _what_?” She laughed, obviously eager to hear what he was going to say.

“At eliciting a reaction,” he finally said, nudging her gently with his elbow. She giggled and elbowed him in return.

“ _Tu es irrattrapable_!” She shook her head. “I was right to ignore you though, it forced you to get creative and man up to ask me out,” she grinned proudly from ear to ear.

She wore makeup, not too much, mostly on her eyes and a bit of lipstick, but nothing as artificial as makeup could flatter her the way smiling did. Yes, it made her look less dead than during their staircase breakfasts when she only just woke up or showered, but her smile truly brought her face to life. Shit, Chris wanted to kiss her right now.

“As for the touching issue- why do you think I was holding your arm? I can walk on my own.” She leaned in closer to his ear so only he would hear and not the group of girls walking by. “I figured you out of all people would get the message as subtle as it is, but if you need a written invitation to put your hands on me that can be arranged.”

This time Chris stiffened for a different reason than before. _This_ \- this was something he knew. This was within his comfort zone, if not the very center of it.

“That won't be necessary darling,” he assured her, still smirking down at her.

She didn't pull back after speaking but merely looked up at him. It took considerable effort not to dive down and steal a kiss from her inviting lips. Damn that red lipstick. After another couple of seconds filled with a while new kind of tension, they parted and walked the last few steps separating them from the entrance of the restaurant.

Right before stepping in though, when Helen was already holding open the door, Chris pressed his body to her back and leaned over to whisper against her hair, “I really do love this outfit by the way.” And with one arm looped around her middle section, Chris stroke her waist, making her freeze for a split second.

Then it was gone again and he walked past her and inside the small restaurant, a boyish grin on his face while she gaped at him. _That's more like it_ , she thought.

 

mutex/ocfipreoqyfb/mutex


	10. Rule n°10

_Rule number ten: When life's tough, be tougher._

 

When he opened the door, Helen awkwardly stood on the other side, looking extremely embarrassed and sleepy. It seemed obvious that she was still clad in her pj’s. She wore loose gray shorts, a worn out tee shirt with cartoon characters he wasn't familiar with on it and topped it with a zipped sweater that was two sizes too big for her. It was longer than her shorts. When Chris' eyes reached the floor he saw that her socks didn't match and that her feet were tucked in fluffy pink slippers with ears and eyes glued on them. He couldn't tell what animal it was supposed to be.

But most importantly, she was carrying a huge tray with what he guessed what mean to be a lavish breakfast that must have taken some time to prepare.

“Hei,” she croaked out before clearing her throat. She sounded like she had either spent the night crying or hadn't used her voice in a while. “I- uhm I'm sorry maybe I should come back later? It's too early, right? God I might even have woken you up, you look like you just came out of bed. This was a dumb idea, I'm gonna leave now-” Helen began to babble.

Her fingers clenched the handles of the tray in such a way that Chris knew she would be fidgeting with her fingers and making big hand gestures if they were free. When she realized that she was rambling she bit the inside of her cheeks.

“I- I brought breakfast?” Her voice was hesitant now, as if she wasn't sure how he'd take it. “I'm sorry; that's all I wanted to say,” she eventually told him before handing him the food.

Chris, like a robot, took the tray without blinking an eye, still staring at Helen as if he was trying to solve a complicated puzzle, clearly not quite awake enough to fully understand what was going on. At least he had the good sense of setting the tray on the small table next to his door, pushing aside his keys and jacket to make room for it.

Helen dived her hands in the pockets of her gigantic sweater as soon as they were free, then looked at her funny slippers in shyness. Before she could scurry away like a scared mouse, and when her words reached Chris' foggy brain at last, he reached out for her. His hand stopped centimeters away from her arm but he simply made a gesture for her to come inside.

“Don't stay out there, it's cold in the hallway,” Chris said.

It was the worst casual excuse to invite a girl in that ever crossed his lips. A look of surprise twisted her features and Helen carefully took a step forward. She only walked in when she was sure Chris wasn't trying to lure her in only to lash out again.

“Tea?”

She made a face. “Coffee?” She asked with a timid smile.

“Ah right, I almost forgot French people are obsessed with coffee,” Chris sighed amusingly, causing her to blush a bit and rub her arms though it dissipated a lot of the tension.

“Not all of us, obviously. But I do,” she giggled a bit more confidently.

Chris grabbed the tray and gave Helen a little head tilt to gesture her to follow him to the kitchen, where he began to set the breakfast table. One might think that by living alone Chris took bad bachelor habits and didn't have two matching set of plates and only one spoon in his kitchen, but his mother will be damned before that happens. He pulled out everything they needed under Helen's inquisitive gaze. He could practically feel her getting ill at ease for standing there without doing anything – clearly she had been raised to give a hand whenever she could too.

“Can you grab the mugs-”

“On it,” she cut him off, bolting from where she stood like she had been waiting for his signal to set in action.

Chris opened a cupboard, grabbed the tea and the powdered coffee, then sighed.

“I'm out of coffee,” Chris told her, visibly upset about this minor disturbance. “It's empty,” he added, shaking the metallic box.

She thought he seemed sorry but little did she know that he was in fact ready to walk down the road to the small supermarket and buy some if it meant she would stay for breakfast – one look at the food she brought was enough to see that it was too much for one person after all.

“Tea is fine, as long as it's strong enough,” she assured him, although he asked her two more times if she was sure.

He would need to buy some damn coffee. He made two cups of his strongest black tea and told Helen she could sit, soon joining her at the table.

It had never looked so full of delicious, fresh food. Helen went through the trouble of baking pancakes, preparing a bowl of freshly cut fruit, and grill some slices of French bread. A whiff of cinnamon and honey tickled Chris' nose as he sat down and marveled at the food.

“So it's true what they say, you really do know your cuisine,” Chris said, only half thinking about what came out of his mouth as his eyes wandered from one plate to another.

“Wait until you taste it,” Helen chuckled, cradling her cup of tea.

There wasn't anything else Chris could think of saying right now. This small talk was already wearing him down, especially compared to how friendly and easy conversation was last night. _Last_ _night_...

He wanted to speak up but wasn't sure how to bring it up without ruining it all. Helen had made an effort and waved a white flag even though she wasn't the one at fault, he couldn't just throw it all to the wind. Therefore he kept quiet a bit longer, at least until he was fully awake and ready to deal with what went down at the club.

She seemed to have had the same idea because she didn't utter another word as they dug in and ate their breakfast in blessed silence. Neither of them had realized how much they needed this moment of calm and quiet – the morning sun shone through the blind on the window and hit the table, their tired bodies slowly emerged from sleep and warmed up with the steaming cup of tea between their hands. All was well for at least a handful of minutes.

Helen, although quiet, was thinking long and hard about last night's events and the unfortunate turn they took. She felt extremely guilty, and words could not express how stupid she felt about the whole affair. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for her.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Chris eventually said before biting down on a piece of French bread topped with raspberries jam.

It made Helen blink, and she realized she had been staring.

“I didn't mean to stare, _désolée_...” she apologized and focused back on her pancake.

She didn't have much of an appetite, she couldn't help but eat a couple freshly baked pancakes while she was cooking breakfast, especially since she wasn't sure Chris would want to share with her.

“How bad do I look?” He asked, taking her by surprise. Helen darted her eyes up again and looked at him. Chris did not shy away from her big piercing eyes.

In truth he did look rather beat, in every sense of the word. The little twist she made with her mouth must have spoken loads because he sighed and buried his face in his hands, hiding his bruised and swollen eye, and the split eyebrow.

Helen could still see the scene in her mind, it played on loop all night in her brain, robbing her of greatly needed sleep. The moment they stepped into this club everything moved in fast forward in her mind, it was like a bad movie she couldn't get out of.

First they danced, Chris had dragged her to the middle of the dance floor while she giggled behind him, arguing – somewhat unconvincingly – that she was a bad dancer and whatnot. But she let herself be brought to this place, and allowed Chris to lead the way and set the rhythm. The music was too loud for any intrusive thought to ruin this for her – they were kept at bay all the while Chris' hand were on her waist or in the small of her back, to help her move along to the music.

She remembered laughing, and seeing him laugh. She wished the music wasn't so loud as to prevent her from hearing his laughter though. Surely if Shansa knew where Chris intended to take her she would have insisted on a completely different outfit, and definitely not flat shoes, and even Helen had to admit that she felt like a fish out of water in this club, what with her being way overdressed and not used to hand out in places such as this. The place was nice however; the music was perfect for dancing, and the black lights added a nice touch – Chris' smile glowed in the dark.

Hell knows how long they stayed there and danced the night away until they were sweaty and thirsty. But they weren't quite ready to leave and stayed at one of the small round tables at the back, sitting on stools and sipping drinks, for leaving meant putting an end to this night.

“I'm gonna get a refill,” Chris informed her when his drink was empty, and so he headed to the bar leaving her at the table.

And that's when it all went wrong.

Unsurprisingly enough, a group of boys made to Helen, who must have seemed like an easy target now that she sat there alone, toying with the straw of the rum coke. Had she been in a less festive mood she would have shooed them off quickly, but they kept their hands to themselves and did not try to take Chris' empty seat so she chatted with them a moment, while Chris grabbed another drink.

The music made any kind of conversation difficult if you weren't leaning directly over someone's shoulder to speak in their ear, but she made do. The three guys seemed to be about her age, and all held a bottle beer in their hand. The leader did most of the talking while the other two stood each side of him and smiled. What seemed to spark the most their interest was when Helen told them she was French – no one could really tell her accent or notice her mistakes with all the surrounding noise.

“I'm still learning,” she said with a strong blush when the boy complimented her Norwegian. Luckily for her, the lighting did not allow anyone to see her reddening cheeks. “It's a difficult tongue.”

A string of smirks answered her as the three boys glanced at each other. The leader finally decided to sit on the free seat. All of this started to make her uncomfortable and feel ill at ease – she didn't want to cause any drama or be rude, but speaking at strangers made her feel shy and self-conscious, triggering a series of mistakes in her Norwegian that she wouldn't usually make. But she as too busy trying to look anywhere but at the guy's two friends staring at her to think about grammar.

“Oh, this seat is-”

“Yeah, I understand that's it's _hard_ ,” he cut her off, still flanked by his grinning friends. “It's not easy, learning a new tongue,” he said, looking her up and down. This time Helen's jaw fell open – she didn't like the way he looked at her, but she carried on their conversation nonetheless. The safe way out of this was to carry on until Chris returned. “If you have trouble with our tongue, maybe I can teach you. I'm positive that I'm a good tongue teacher.”

Helen did not hear his friend sniggering but she saw them. Something was off, but she couldn't tell what exactly. Had she said something wrong? She was slightly buzzed and not in full possession of her wits at the moment, but her instinct never betrayed her. Just when she decided that the situation required a change of plans, and readied herself to jump off the stool and go in search of Chris, his voice rose from behind her.

“I think you should get going now,” Chris seethed, slamming his drink on the table and standing between Helen and the stranger who had claimed his stool.

“Who do you think you are, man? Let the girl decide,” he argued, looking way too self-assured for someone who was treading on thin ice like he was.

“I'm her date, I think the choice is obvious here,” Chris told him, not baking away one iota though he was outnumbered and the other guy was taller. Helen placed a hand on Chris' shoulder, pressing it to remind him they were not alone. “Get moving before I move you.”

“What's your beef man? We were just chatting!” The other guy defended his cause, clearly not seeing why he was in the wrong here.

“Oh really? You don't see? Maybe I should teach you some manners then. Did you mama never teach you not to take advantage of girls?”

Helen didn't know where this was going but she didn't like it. Suddenly she felt the music ought to be a bit louder, because they were starting to attract unwanted attention, and if these two kept this up it would end in a fight.

“No one's taking advantage of anyone,” the guy insisted. “We just playing a little, no harm!”

“Get out of my seat and get the fuck out of my sight,” Chris then barked at them, clearly not making things better. These boys seemed to be the kind who did exactly the contrary of what they were told to do.

“Hey man, keep it down or I'll-”

“You'll what? Disrespect my girl again? I heard you talking and I did not like what I heard, now don't make me ask again-”

But Chris never got to finish his sentence because the other guy grew impatient and shoved him back, pushing Chris right onto Helen who spilled her drink.

“Chris!” She tried to call him but he was too focused on his attacker to hear her. “Chris!”

Before she could stop him, the first fist was thrown, and then it was too late to step between them.

When Helen emerged from her memories of last night, the silence was no longer nice. And it stretched, and stretched.... until-

“It's my all fault, neither of this would have happened if I wasn't there,” Helen immediately said, the flow her words coming out before she could think of her grammar or anything futile like that. “I don't know what to do to be forgived.”

“Forgiven,” Chris corrected her. A reflex reaction he could not repress apparently. Then the double meaning of the word hit him. Helen was still looking at him, worried and apprehensive. “I mean, it's _forgiven_ , not _forgived_. But anyway you are forgiven – not that there's anything to forgive in the first place, but if it makes you calm down and stop acting like you're scared of me now... then you're forgiven.”

If someone had to apologize to someone, it was Chris to Helen. At least she had tried to stop this madness but he had been too caught up in his anger after hearing this fuckwit take advantage of Helen's shortcomings in Norwegian to say inappropriate things to her, he- well he lost his composure. He had no excuses, he just saw red.

And worst of all he took it out on her after the bouncer separated them and made them leave their separate ways. Chris had taken some serious blows and was in a foul mood when he and Helen walked back. Rationally he knew she did not do anything wrong and couldn't be held responsible for this asshole's disgusting behavior, but he couldn't bring himself to shrug it off and smile. Therefore his lips remained sealed the entire way back, although Helen tried to coax him into speaking to her – she repeatedly inquired about his eye and asked him if he was feeling okay or if they should stop at the hospital.

Actually the more she talked – no doubt out of stress and because she felt the need to speak for two – the more annoyed he grew. Not even at her, but rather himself. This was his chance, he one go at winning Helen over. After weeks of shying out of asking her out he finally grew some, and now he blew it. Andreas was never going to let him live it down, Chris knew his friend would push him to ask her for a second chance, but goddammit, Chris' ego was hurt. If only he had kept his cool instead of provoking this dude.

He couldn't help it though, the mere thought of this guy made him want to break something all over again. And later that night, when Helen had asked him if he was feeling alright one time too many, he took his frustration out on her, and yelled back.

“I'm fucking fine! Stop asking already, for fuck's sake!” He shouted, shrugging off the reassuring hand she had placed on his shoulder just as they reached their building in the thick of the night, his voice echoing in the street.

At this moment his left eye was completely closed and it throbbed painfully. He would need to sleep with a bag of frozen peas on his face, that was just great.

Looking back on it, it wasn't as bad as he first thought. When he was face to face with his reflection in the mirror, it was merely a bruise, faintly swollen but not too bad. His eyebrow was split open but the bleeding had stopped and a crust was already forming.

He shouldn't have snapped.

Now he should be apologizing.

“I'm sorry for what I said last night, it was wrong,” Chris said, leaning back and forgetting about his French toast. “You don't know was really happened, do you? What he said to trigger me off?”

She shook her head.

“Well I won't go into details but he played on a mistake you made and said some gross stuff to you without you noticing. You said _tongue_ instead of _language_.”

Shame overtook her and Helen hid her face in her hands.

“Fuck,” she whispered, and it dawned on Chris that he had never heard her swear before, and that it was weirdly attractive though he should not be thinking that right now.

“I told you it was my fault! If only I didn't regress every time I talk to a stranger everything would be fine, and none of this shit would have gone down. But no, I have to be so socially awkward as to accidentally start a club fight over a grammar mistake!”

“You speak perfectly, it's this jackass' fault that he made you so uncomfortable that you forgot how to use words,” Chris teased, trying to chase away her embarrassment with a smile.

He was happy to see that it seemed to work.

“Guess I still have some learning to do,” she laughed heartily, finding comfort in Chris' returned good mood. “If you're still willing to take such a hopeless student under your wing.”

“Don't worry, we'll make a real Norwegian out of you. I'm _excellent_ at teaching tongues,” he replied, then dodged the piece of apple Helen threw at him.

 


	11. Rule n°11

_Rule number eleven: success is the best revenge_

 

Even after they cleared any misunderstanding things didn't just go back to the way they were before their date. They scarcely met up anymore, only saying a quick hello when they saw each other at the building, and for about two weeks they didn't have any real conversation. Nevertheless, they both lead busy lives and didn't have too much free time to give themselves headaches over this lack of contact, even though they felt it deeply.

It hadn't occurred to Helen that she started liking Chris that much over the time they knew each other – yes he was cute, and charming, and she was attracted to him. But all of this could be filed away as being physical. While her feelings right this moment were anything but.

“Hey, get a grip, or I'll drag you downstairs myself,” Shansa grumbled from the couch where she as sitting with her laptop on her knees. “There is a literal dark cloud hovering over your head Hel.”

Hel. Of course her roommate had to pick up the nickname Chris had given her a while back, and now every time she heard it she was reminded of him. She fucked up, she knew it. She had ruined this first date, and while at the time she thought it was only a fling with no real emotional attachment, she slowly realized that it was not the case for Chris.

Here she was, taking things lightly when to him it was real. After what he told her about his past it was hard to conceive that he would simply fall for her, but even she couldn't keep her head in the sand anymore at this point. She had to admit he didn't give her any reason to think he wasn't serious about their relationship, whatever it was.

“Bugger off,” Helen told her friend. “Let me and my dark cloud alone.”

Oh how tempting it was to throw a pity party! Yet her roommate stubbornly wouldn't let her.

“It's rubbing off on me, I can't afford being discouraged right now, this essay counts for half my grade!” She argued, pointing at her computer and squinting her eyes at Helen.

To be fair she had been more than patient and gave Helen a few days to brood in a corner after she came back from her breakfast at Chris' place, but at some point she decided enough was enough. Shansa was no delicate flower, so she burst into Helen's room, physically dragged her out from under her blanket, made her take a shower and put on clean clothes, then forced her to go for a walk to breathe some fresh air.

It did do her some good, but it didn't change the fact that she messed up. She has been thinking this over for the last two weeks, and there was really only one thing to do. Chris had ran after her long enough, she's the one who ruined their date, therefore she would be the one to mend their relationship.

“Where does your motivation come from anyway?” Helen asked Shansa, ignoring her previous statement. “I would need some right now.”

“Straight from the pits of hell,” Shansa sniggered. “It makes me sad to see you ruminate what happened. It wasn't your fault that these brainless monkeys decided to play you because you didn't understand a language subtlety,” she added. “You need to move past it.”

“But it was so humiliating, and I feel bad for Chris. He planned this whole evening, tried to make it perfect, and I just ruined it because I'm too dumb to understand a dirty joke.”

“There's a world between a dirty joke and downright harassment. These dudes were clearly taking advantage of you, and Chris reacted the only way he knew of to defend you.”

“So you're saying he defended my honor?” Helen turned away from her notebook and looked at Shansa who had pushed aside her laptop, obviously taking a break from her important essay. “It's even worse, now I feel helpless too. I should just have shut my mouth.”

“Bloody hell, girl!” Shansa cursed, shaking her head at her friend. “Stop making a fuss out of this, shit happens! That's just how life is, sometimes it throws assholes at you, and you have to deal with them. Chris did it for you this time, so what?! I'm sure he doesn't blame you for it!”

“He doesn't, be I do!” Helen stood up and angrily pointed at herself. “I'm an idiot, and I jeopardized my relationship with him!”

“So you do like him,” Shansa said with a glorious smirk. “I knew it wasn't just his pretty face that drew you to him!”

“So what if I do? It took him weeks to ask me out, I saw how nervous he was and he only did it because his friend pushed him to do so. Now everything's awkward, and I'm sure I can't count on Andreas to push him a second time. Not that I think Chris would listen to him anymore. I've passed up my chance.”

“You'd be surprised how resilient best friends are,” Shansa replied with a soft smile, making Helen lower her shoulder and sit back down again.

She knew her friend meant well, but Shansa couldn't do anything for her. In this situation it would only make things worse if she decided to intervene, and same went for Andre. Surely if they meddled they would only dig a wider hole between Chris and Helen.

No, she had to own up to her own mistakes and make this better herself.

“I'll deal with Chris myself. I know I can, but right now I still feel too sorry for myself, just give me a few more days to be broody.” It didn't seem to convince Shansa.

“Promise?”

“I will, I swear. I'll think of something.”

“Girl, please!” Shansa laughed, causing Helen to raise an eyebrow in confusion. “The boy is head over heels for you, you don't need to come up with an elaborate scheme,just be yourself.”

 

*

 

Breathe,. Just breathe and be natural, there's nothing that can go wrong, Helen repeated these words to herself like a mantra as she began to walked down the row of bookshelves, the clicking sound of her heels muffled by the carpet.

Surely she had no reason to be nervous, this was only Chris! Her funny, boyish, and lovely downstairs neighbor, whom she shared a pizza and breakfast with. Chris who made her laugh, the first person she talked to in the morning – at least she used to when they still both sat at their windows every day to take in some fresh air before facing the day. If anything, she should be looking forward to finally seeing him again, yet when her eyes spotted him sitting at the same table as he usually was with Andreas, her heart jumped in her throat.

Four more days have gone by since the day she promised Shansa she would pull herself together and makes things better with Chris.

Now came her chance, and she was tempted to shy out of it. Except she wouldn't. She knew what do to. She was a social person, she wasn't afraid to chat up boys, she was bold, and funny, she could handle Chris.

“Hi,” she suddenly said. She hadn't realized she had already reached his table.

She must have caught him in a moment of deep concentration because he started in surprise. Maybe she shouldn't be doing this right now as she was still at work technically, but her feet had decided for her.

“H-Hei,” Chris answered, frowning as if he wasn't sure she was really here at all.

Chris being at loss for words was a rare occurrence, and while a part of Helen was giddy at the thought of being the cause of it, the other part felt anxious.

Chris looked tired. He wore a zipped sweater with the hood up, and by now Helen knew him well enough to know that he only wore his hood up when he wanted to be alone and ignored. Maybe this was a bad idea but it was too late.

“You look good,” she told him, immediately scolding herself for this ridiculous comment. For on, it wasn't true. And secondly: Small talk! Once she started making small talk, there was no turning around, things inevitably became awkward, she had to turn things around and quickly! “Are you?” She heard herself ask, her voice somewhat hesitant.

Their eyes locked, and there seemed to be some kind of silent conversation happening between the two of them as they stayed still and simply looked at each other.

“I don't have to be fine, I only need to look fine,” he eventually answered, shrugging to dismiss her concern.

But it had the opposite effect, Helen's brain went fully alert, searching for something appropriate to tell him. It was obviously meant to be a joke, but it came across as rather a painful admission than a jest. It tugged at her heart, a sinking feeling suddenly overwhelming her – guilt?

“Now that's-” sad, terrible, heart-breaking, “-unacceptable,” she decided setting the books she was holding on his table and sitting down. “I lied by the way. You look like shit. Those dark circles here-” she gestures to her own eyes. “Don't look good.”

Chris huffed, reluctantly nodding in agreement. He didn't say anything though. A least Helen managed to put a smile on his face, eve more a short time.

“I have to go back to work, but Chris-” she started, feeling his eyes on her. He was giving her his full attention, however he felt about her, at least he was inclined to listen to what she had to say. “Do you still like me or did I completely ruin it?” She blurted out, feeling the fire in her cheeks.

Chris' jaw nearly hit the floor but Helen had to admit he kept fairly collected. He leaned against the back of his chair and his eyes did not look away from her. If she had to guess, she would say he tried to find a hint of joke in her eyes but she was dead serious.

“Is that even a question?” He laughed, rubbing his eyes. She still didn't smile. “Hel, of course I still like you. Do _you_?”

Why did the air have to be so heavy today? Now she was smiling at least, if only a shy little smile. It brightened up her whole face. Helen stood up with her books cradled against her chest.

“I have to go back to work,” she repeated, and though Chris looked disappointed that he wouldn't get a straight answer today, he seemed a bit reassured y her warm smile. “We really shouldn't have stopped having our talks on the fire escape, you know? They're my favorite part of the day.”

 

*

 

The sky was orange. The sun was setting. Helen has been waiting all evening; she wasn't sure why she didn't simply go downstairs, but she felt it was better to wait sundown. She was more comfortable talking and sharing with other people after dark. Not to mention that it would be odd if she knocked on his door with dinner at five. It was nearly half past seven now, and the Chinese take away food she'd ordered was still warm.

“So how long do you plan on sitting here admiring the sunset like a romantic loser when you could be down there getting some?” The dulcet voice of her beloved roommate interrupted her reverie. Helen rolled her eyes.

“Until I get my shit together I guess,” she answered. At this point in their relationship she didn't take offense at Shansa's unsubtle comments. “It's intimidating. And I'm not gonna get some, I'm not gonna get anything. We have a lot to talk about Chris and I.”

“Mmh,” Shansa hummed in response, putting her feet on the coffee table. “Can't argue with that. Saw the guy earlier today and he looks in severe lack of sleep, I don't know what you did to him but-”

The rest of the sentence was lost to Helen, she tuned out. Was it her fault if Chris looked so sad? Truthfully even if she was only partially at fault, it would still make her feel terrible.

“I'm going now,” Helen decided, cutting off one of Shansa endless rambling. She was staring at the bottom of an ice cream pot and drinking wine – that's how she got ready for a party.

“Break a leg!” She wished her. “Who would've thought this guy was such a handful?”

Helen did not answer that question because it hit very close to home once again. She should have known better than to judge Chris by his appearance and that first awkward encounter in the staircase. There was so much more behind this fuckboy façade. Somehow she had ignored this part of him yet managed to mess him up at the same time.

“Have fun tonight,” Helen said before grabbing the bag of food and climbing out the window.

“Bloody hell, can't you two use the friggin' door like normal people?” Shansa shouted right before Helen closed the window.

Bracing herself, Helen walked down the few steps separating her from Chris and softly knocked on the window, hoping he was home. There was a faint light coming from under the closed door of his room, so he must be in there. As if he had been waiting for her, Chris opened the door not two seconds after she knocked, and she waved at him, pointing at the bag she held in her left hand.

“Hei, I hope you haven't had dinner yet,” she said as a greeting when Chris opened the window.

“I didn't even see what time it was, let alone prepare dinner,” Chris replied, moving aside to let he climb in.

“Is this a wrong time?” She worried all of a sudden.

“No, no, I was just doing some reading.” Chris waved his hand as if to shoo of her concerns and extended his hand to take the bag from her. “Take away?”

“From that Chinese restaurant you told me about,” Helen said, wiping her hands on her jeans.

She didn't know what her palms were so sweaty but she hated it. Everything they needed was in that bag so Chris grabbed two beers from the fridge and they settled on his couch in front of the television. Helen couldn't say what was on TV that night because she was too busy trying to eat properly while finding a way to bring up what she came here to talk about.

Chris and her needed a clean slate to start over. That sure as hell wouldn't happen by magic, she had to get it together and bring it up to him, otherwise he would continue to look sleep deprived and she would be none the wiser about the reasons for it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by loud meowing, and when Helen turned her head to the left there was a black cat sitting on the armrest, wiggling its tail and licking its lips. The desirous way it looked at her meal made her move her box of noodles out of its sight.

“Oh, now he's showing up!” Chris grunted, glaring at his cat. “This fucker only comes out of hiding when he smells food.”

Helen let out a little chuckle, meanwhile there was a staring contest happening between Chris and his cat who didn't move from his spot on the armrest.

“So you're Chris' little devil?” She purred, petting the little ball of fur. It closed its eyes and lied down, tail still wiggling happily. She looked at Chris. “I think he likes me.”

“I'm not surprised, he makes it a point to cuddle everyone but me,” Chris grumbled before shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth. “I am unloved in this house.”

“It's tough love baby,” Helen replied with a laugh. “What's his name?”

“William,” Chris said. He sighed and looked at his food, not seeing Helen frown in confusion.

“William is a weird name for a cat,” she observed as she scratched behind its ears. It purred in response and gently rubbed against the girl's hand. Whether or not he did it out of spite or just because he liked Helen, Chris couldn't tell but the animal never seemed this eager to get an ear scratch from him.

Chris shrugged.

“Chris...” She began, and when he looked up he must have seen something in her eyes because she didn't need to add anything else. He sighed, and put down his empty box of food. Immediately William the cat jumped from where it sat and grabbed the box, fleeing out of the window with its prize.

“I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't shut you off like this but I hate talking about William,” Chris admitted, leaning back against his couch.

This made her pause. Helen wasn't finished but she lost interest in her meal and set it on the table, making sure to close it so the cat wouldn't come and steal it too.

“William the cat?” She asked just to make sure.

“No, William my best friend who fucking left for England without so much as a heads up,” _and without me_ , he wanted to add but did not.

And now it made a lot more sense. To Helen it felt like she finally found a missing piece of a giant puzzle, and suddenly Chris just _made sense_. There was pant up anger behind his words, as if he hasn't had a chance to properly rant about it yet.

“You sound as if you need to talk about it,” she declared, making him wince.

“Don't take this the wrong way but I'd rather not do this in front of you,” he told her.

“Why?”

“There are some colorful Norwegian words you don't need to learn,” he joked, earning a smile but not managing to change the subject if the look on her face was any indication. “He just- he left. And I'm here alone, and I feel stupid. Like, you have no idea how _dumb_ I feel for still being bitter about something that happened two years ago.”

“Everybody is allowed time to heal, as much as they need,” Helen said, gathering her legs under her and placing a hand on her ankle. “There's no book to follow. He was your best friend and he hurt you, I'd be terribly upset too.”

“Well, this is miles away from what I expected from this evening,” Chris commented. “I know I should move on, but I- I just can't get passed it. At first I was mad, and crushed, but now I'm just bitter because he moved on so quickly – as if I didn't mean anything to begin with – and I'm... stuck.”

“Let's see,” Helen said, trying to sound positive even though they were talking about serious stuff. “You have completed your military service, you live in a nice apartment in the heart of Oslo, you have a cat that seems as stubborn as you, and you're in college, where you study something you like and made new friends. That hardly sounds like being stuck to me.”

Chris was still looking at her when he took a deep shaky breath, and for a second Helen worried she might have said something wrong because he looked so much like he was about to cry. Some part of her thought Chris would never allow himself to cry in front of her, but she wouldn't judge him for doing so. She would never. Helen moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen... maybe this William of yours is living the life in uptown London or wherever, having tea with the Queen and such, but maybe he's miserable, maybe he struggles with speaking a new language, failed his Freshman years at university, got dumped by his girlfriend- who knows? There's not point in tormenting yourself with these self-deprecating thoughts. You don't know for sure if he's moved on at all.”

“If he is miserable then he damn well deserves it, I can't feel sorry for him anymore. That asshole could've said goodbye at the very least,” Chris snapped.

“What about me?” Helen suddenly asked, making his frown.

“What about you?”

“I left my home too, to come here. Maybe there's someone missing me as much as you do William back in France. Would you despise me for it?” She asked, her big brown eyes staring at him in this disarming manner that somehow made him answer questions he swore he wouldn't answer even under torture.

“Is it a boy?” Chris asked playfully, trying to lighten up the mood. Helen pouted and shoved him.

“It doesn't matter. What's important is that each and everyone of us does what's most important for ourselves. I know it's not nice to hear but if you were really his friend, then you must allow him to live his life the way he wants to, not stand between him and his future. Even if it was very shitty of him to leave without telling you beforehand.”

“Now you're just making me feel bad,” Chris tried to laugh.

Helen moaned and apologized, putting her forehead against his shoulder to hide her blushing face from him.

“I'm joking, I'm joking,” he assured her, making her look up again. “I know you're right – in my head.”

But not in his heart.

“Anyway, is this William the reason for these?” Helen inquired, brushing her thumb right below his eye bags.

“In part, I guess. But I've just had a hard time sleeping for months.” He shrugged. “Stressed out I guess.”

He already spilled enough of his guts to the girl he liked, he wasn't going to tell her he's been having an identity crisis because he couldn't score girls anymore, and because he still felt robbed of his friends from high school, and life was stressful.

“You know that first time we met?” She asked. Chris was a bit surprised that she was the one changing the subject but he wasn't going to complain.

“As if it was yesterday.”

“Well, I hadn't been going out much because you know how nervous I get when I speak to strangers and I just forget how to speak and such,” she explained and he nodded. “So you where basically the first person I had a full conversation with since I'd moved it, apart from Shansa of course. And I remember thinking 'fy fean, that's it, this is the hot neighbor every teen movie warned me about'.”

A genuine laugh fell from Chris' lips now, and a gentle warmth filled Helen for having accomplished that.

“You made me feel so nervous Shansa had to give me a pep talk so I would shy out of our first hang out-”

“It was a date!” Chris said, obviously not letting her argue about this.

“Yes, I literally told you no funny business and the first thing you do is trick me into going on a date with you. See why I think you're my downfall?” Helen pointed out.

“Fair enough. But where are we going with this fond memory?”

“What I'm trying to say is that I had no idea who you were at the time, you were just the intimidatingly handsome boy who bumped into me. I thought that would be it, how many times in a girl's life does she literally run into a hot guy? But then you knocked on my door to return my notebook. And you asked for my number, and you texted me, and I knew I shouldn't get involved with someone like you but I was also in dire need of friends and of going out.”

“Someone like me?” Chris repeated her words.

“Yes, precisely. You give off this vibe, and I don't know if you're aware of it or if it's on purpose, but you just seem like life's always smiling to you, and you have it easy. So I didn't bother scratching the surface and just took you at face value. I figured I could hang out with you because you'd get bored of me very soon.”

“Right,” Chris said, clicking his tongue against his cheek. He wasn't surprised but it hurt all the same to hear it, especially from Helen. She looked deeply embarrassed for saying that though.

“But you didn't. You hung onto me, and I slowly discovered things about you that I never suspected. And I feel so guilty about not giving you a proper chance from the beginning. I should have known better, and I'm sorry. I'm worried about you. You keep everything to yourself and I'm scared that there's a lot more hurting you're hiding from the world under this polished surface.”

“I don't understand what you're saying,” Chris simply told her.

She could see on his face that she had said too much, gone too far. His closed off expression said it all.

“I'm not even sure where I was going anymore, but what I'm saying that I really like you, and not because of this-” she gestured to his body. “But because of all the rest.”

“You weren't wrong to be careful with me, I didn't exactly have innocent intentions in the beginning. Actually I wasn't sure what I wanted from you until Andreas pushed some of my buttons, it's because of him that I texted you the first time. Or thanks to him, I guess.” He laughed bitterly before meeting her eyes. “Apparently I lost my game with girls, so I decided on a spur of the moment kind of decision, that I would seduce you.”

“It worked pretty well if you ask me, and Andreas clearly has no idea what he's talking about, because you smooth talk like you make a living out of it.”

“Now you're just flattering me!” Chris pointed an accusing finger to Helen and she dramatically clutched her heart.

“Guilty!”

“Anyway, it didn't go as planned. You stayed distant but you were friendly and a lot of fun, so I kind of continued to run after you. At the time I still thought it was because I needed to prove Andre wrong, but then we began to hang out by the fire escape, we got close, and I got attached.”

“Be still my beating heart,” Helen said to herself, and Chris shot her a nasty look. “Don't pay attention to me, I can laugh now but I was a wreck of nerves before coming down here.”

“I suppose I wasn't doing much better the day I asked you on a date in the library,” Chris chuckled. “I was so happy you said yes, and then I ruined everything. I could have handled the situations in so many different, better ways, but instead I lost my cool. I saw red when I heard this guy speak to you like that, and I didn't think I just- well we've been over this already.”

“We're the biggest pair of idiots,” Helen said, offering him a smile to show that she really didn't hold him responsible for what happened that night.

“Any chance you'd give another shot to this idiot?” Chris asking, pointing at himself. “And upgrade to a _couple_ of idiots?”

There wasn't much Helen could have said in this moment, for all was said now. Finally she felt they had had an open conversation with no 'it's a long story' or 'I don't wanna talk about it'. She smiled and snuggled closer to Chris' side. With her chin resting on the hand that was on Chris shoulder, Helen leaned into him.

He gave her every chance to pull out when he began to slowly lean in but Helen eagerly closed the distance between them and finally kissed him. When their lips crashed into each other it felt like a release, the sensation of getting something long overdue filled them both. Chris grabbed Helen's face with both hands and kissed her again and again, not getting enough. She answered with more enthusiasm than he could have hoped for and quickly threw a leg over his lap to straddle him.

With his hands now resting on her hips that rolled against his own, Chris marveled at how simple things felt, how evident. Helen hasn't been waiting to be blown away with some grand romantic gesture, she never expected or wanted him to take her to a fancy place, or bend backwards for her. She only wanted to know him before giving in.

Once again Chris was left feeling pretty stupid, but this time, there was no trace of bitterness, only the sweet taste of Helen's lips.

 

*

 

“Not too soon!” Helen's voice greeted her first thing in the morning when Chris' head showed through his half open window. “I've been waiting forever!” She told him in a scolding tone though she was smiling wide and bright and Chris too. “Do you have any idea how many cramps I have after striking a pose for so long?”

“Why the hell would you be striking a pose while waiting for me?” He asked, climbing out of the window.

He was only wearing sweatpants, socks, and a hoodie, and carried his coffee in a hand. He walked up the stairs separating them and placed a kiss good morning kiss on Helen's inviting, awaiting lips. She smiled and made room for him on the window's edge.

“To look sexy first thing in the morning?” She said unconvincingly. Even with her hair wet from her morning shower and her usual legging and XL sweater she did, in fact, look beautiful. “I don't have a lot of time this morning, they want me to open,” Helen told him as she checked her phone to see what time it was. “Waffle?” She offered, gesturing to the plate with a pile of waffles on it, sitting on her window seat behind them.

Chris tucked his mug between his legs and grabbed a waffle, biting into it.

“It's still warm, you can't have been waiting for too long,” he said, putting an arm across Helen's shoulders. “Nah who am I kidding? I've been awake for hours, waiting until it was a decent enough time to come and find you.”

She sipped her coffee in silence contentment, the chilly morning air not dimming down her mood as she took in the warmth radiating from Chris.

“Next time come knock. Worst case scenario you wake up Shansa after a night out partying and she screams at you for making noise because she's nursing a massive hangover,” Helen laughed.

“Oh is that what she's currently doing? I was going to ask you if she gave you hell when you sneaked back last night.”

“Yeah, she was out all night, but I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it once she's better.” She put her hand on Chris' knee and gently tapped it. “I'm sure you'll get the same treatment from Andreas, he seems like this kind of friend from what I gathered.”

“You have no idea how right you are, and if you're lucky it'll happen in front of everyone at the library, he always seems to speak the loudest in the most inconvenient places.”

“ _J'ai hâte de voir ça_.” She laughed and finished the last of her drink. “I have to go,” she said with a winced, glaring at her phone.

Too bad she had an actual job, if she was just another student Chris might have talked her into skipping today's classes and stay with him lounging in bed all day. Taking it as his cue he stood up, and after another kiss – which lasted significantly longer than the first one, and grew much deeper than planned – he took her coffee and grabbed the plate of waffles.

“I'm stealing these since you don't need them anymore,” he said, already walking away with his prize.

“Hey!” She protested, gesturing him to give her one before leaving.

Chris threw a waffle at her, and she caught it without blinking, smirking proudly and sticking her tongue out at him. Then she climbed inside.

“See you later?” He asked just when she was about to walk away with her breakfast in hand. Helen stopped dead in her tracks and once again stuck her head out of the window.

“Are you free between eight and seven?” She asked, a cheeky smirk on her lips.

“You mean between seven and eight?” Chris frowned.

“Oh I said what I meant.” She grinned mischievously and closed her window.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to do that but just in case it wasn’t clear enough, I will explain the joke: Helen means to spend the night, so she wants to stay from 8PM to 7AM, and not from 7PM to 8PM like Chris assumed.
> 
> It’s over and I’m not 100% proud of this but at least I finished it and it didn’t join the growing pile of WIPs that will never get to the end because I’m a lazy fuck. If nothing else, at least I managed to give it closure, and although I think the sotry went a little off the trails at some point, I still quite like some chapters (not all but some) and I enjoyed writing the sie characters like Shansa, Andre, and Astrid, even if they didn’t get as much ‘screen time’ as they deserved :)


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